


Lonely Together

by CharmmyColour



Series: Lonely Together [1]
Category: Lilo & Stitch (2002)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Angst and Feels, But Jumba and others later, But it takes place later on, But some episodes are rearranged, Canon Compliant, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Issues, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mostly Pleakley at first, Non-Linear Narrative, Outcasts finding their place, Sexual Tension, Social Anxiety, Stitch and Ai Is Not Canon, Stitch has a Glitch is Canon, Stitch! The Anime is not Canon, Stitch! The Movie is Canon, The TV Series is Canon, Warnings May Change, different POVs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 74,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22496752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharmmyColour/pseuds/CharmmyColour
Summary: Wendy Pleakley is an neurotic, emotional agent from Plorgonar that works as an Earth Expert for the Galactic Federation. His world ends in shambles after the Grand Council mandates him to Earth in order to control the evil criminal Jumba Jookiba, a mad scientist from Kweltikwan. Things don't go as expected and now, they are both trapped at the strange planet... posibly forever.But Pleakley quickly realizes that not everything is that bad: the Pelekai human family takes them in and their new life as a little Ohana is actually quite pleasant. And when it comes to Jumba... it turns out Pleakley actually likes to be around him, he likes it a lot. From partners they turn into roommates, and as time passes and they bond more and more, they end becoming good friends too. But at some point Pleakley can't not determine, strange new feelings start to invade his head and his hearts. However, why would a genius like Jumba take any interest in him? Pleakley can't accept his feelings the same he never was able to accept his sexuality.If only he knew Jumba feels the same...
Relationships: David Kawena/Nani Pelekai, Jumba Jookiba/Wendy Pleakley
Series: Lonely Together [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730134
Comments: 298
Kudos: 168





	1. What Must It Be Like to Have Nothing?

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic ever, and I'm not even English, so...any criticism is welcomed. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Proof-reading and editing by JCMorrigan.

Pleakley didn't know when, or how, things started to feel that confusing to him.

He remembered how excited he was when, back on his days working on the Galactic Federation, the Council had asked for his presence as an Earth Expert. No, “exciting” wasn't enough to describe how much it meant to Pleakley. Earth Studies was not a popular subject, really; barely any college offered it, and its students were often disrespected if not outright mocked. But now the Council needed an expert, and they had called HIM! Sure, it was probably because he was literally the only person in the entire spaceship that had such a degree, but that was certainly a tiny, unimportant detail.

Everything was going great at first; the Grand Councilwoman was listening to his advice and was willing to protect the precious wildlife preserve of the mosquito! Humans were simply too delicate to allow a military landing on the planet, Pleakley explained, and the mission should be conducted as discreetly as possible to not scare them. The Plorgonarian was so caught up in the the moment that he didn’t think of the implications of what was he suggesting, and regret grew slowly on his chest once he realized there was only one person that could possibly help him.

Never before had Pleakley felt so terrified of anyone as he had of Jumba Jookiba, the evil genius. The Kweltikwanian wasn’t that much taller than him, but that was something he wouldn’t notice until much later; in the dark cell, he seemed to tower over the poor agent, looking down at him as if he were only a tiny dot in the distance. All of his eyes (four of them, such an excessive number!) looked at him menacingly at first, and seemed to mock the Plorgonarian later, which somehow made him look even scarier. Pleakley couldn't stop wondering how easily Jumba could crush him with his huge, terrifying hands until there was nothing left of him but dust. The aggressive behavior of the criminal didn’t help either, and the constant evil grin on his face and the relaxed tone of his voice made it look like if spending the rest of his life in jail were only a minor annoyance to him and the mission he just agreed on some kind of fun trip. And that was what Pleakley found most disturbing; Jumba was completely insane, he thought, the reports and the news headlines were true. Jumba was completely insane and he was going to kill him.

He was still trying to digest that they would both travel to Earth alone when the Kweltikwanian started walking toward him from behind. His deep voice, which now sounded teasing and almost excited with the idea, made Pleakley shudder in utter fear.

“So, tell me, my little one-eyed one… on what poor, pitiful, defenseless planet has my monstrosity been unleashed?”

Then things were… too fast for Pleakley to remember correctly. At some point, the odd, childish behavior of the supposed evil genius started to feel more annoying than scary. At some point, Pleakley even restrained him (albeit just to avoid the Kweltikwanian shooting a precious human specimen and revealing them) and it was… oddly harmless to do so. The huge alien very well could have shoved him on a wall or hit him unconscious for daring to disrupt his plans; he was clearly strong enough to have just killed him then and there and get things his way. But he didn't. If it was because of some moral compass or that he just didn't want to get in trouble with the Council, Pleakley couldn't tell. Jumba was just careful enough to never hurt him directly despite his strength, which was definitely odd coming from the mad, cruel and sadistic scientist everyone talked about.

The fact that he was no longer scared hit the Plorgonarian hard after the actual feeling of fear disappeared. But after the chase, the experience of Earth, the strange behavior of 626, his mother calling, the Council after them, and all the new (often painful) experiences; he really had no time to notice something as irrelevant as how he felt towards his troublesome partner. Jumba was big, energetic, destructive and stubborn, but also friendly, confident, curious and non-judgmental, which was the strangest part. When Pleakley decided to try out a pretty female wig and was caught doing so, he had expected to be mocked and laughed at by the scientist (who clearly would have had no qualm doing such mockery); but instead, Jumba just wanted to try it too. That was it. All the mean things Pleakley had heard directed at him during the years because of his (in his family’s words) inadequate tastes, and the supposedly worst person of them all just wanted to share a wig for a minute.

It felt bizarre.

“What must it be like to have nothing, not even memories to visit in the middle of the night?”

He sounded so sad, so worried. It was very different from his usual proud tone when talking about his masterpiece, the night that Jumba pondered out loud while looking at the stars. Pleakley just lay there, kind of baffled by it. He had never considered 626 feelings; why would he? It was just a dangerous illegal experiment to be captured. Why would they care? Why would HE care? The damn thing was driving them mad around that wicked planet! But no, Jumba clearly cared. He cared a lot. He had made 626, after all, and would have come to Earth to retrieve it even if the Council had not offered anything in exchange, Pleakley was sure of it. And that kind of made him care too, just a little. The Kweltikwanian could be chaotic, no doubt about that, but he was also very genuine. Pleakley wasn't the kind to really wish harm to anyone, so he couldn't help but sympathize a bit with the convict and his worries; and also for the little experiment, which, he had to admit, was kind of cute after all.

Those words would be the last ones spoken that night, since Pleakley didn't know with what to reply and just remained there in silence.

When Jumba fell asleep not much later, Pleakley couldn't help but wonder where the bigger alien came from. Did he have happy memories to visit during the night? Family? Friends? A home? He had to, or otherwise he wouldn’t have sounded so sad while commenting on it, right? Right…?

It was very odd when, in the chaos of capturing 626 a couple days later, he found himself feeling very relieved that Jumba mentioned his mother.

And then he was suddenly a good guy trying to save a little girl. And oh, more spaceship chases. More chaos. Pleakley was barely processing anything, but that sweet human girl and Stitch (626 was called “Stitch” now) looked so happy and pure that it made his two hearts melt. How was he not to be on their side? And Jumba, well… in a weird way, he actually liked Jumba. How direct he was, how sincere, how paternal, even. There were no hidden intentions or shady motives behind his sudden kindness; he had just decided to help because he was asked to. Perhaps he thought it would be more fun that way. Did he feel guilty? Or maybe he was, for some reason, getting attached to the others.

All his life, and specially around the socially-complex Plorgonarians, Pleakley had to absorb all kinds of unwritten rules on how communication worked: learn how to decipher what others were actually saying when speaking, what they actually expected when asking and what they actually wanted when acting. Humans were overall like that too.

But not Jumba. Jumba could be an impulsive, smug evil genius, but he had nothing to demonstrate to anyone, no social rules to bind himself to. He was clear and straightforward, did not hide under false pretenses and wasn't interested in any kind of mind game. It was… refreshing, even relaxing, not having to worry about that around him. The Earth expert found that, in a way, it was just very easy to be himself when they were alone. No assigned roles, no unspoken rules and no social expectations. Just friendship.

Friendship? Of course, he didn’t use that word then, and it wouldn’t be until much more later that it would even cross his mind. He could not be friends with such a different person from himself, could he? Jumba was evil, and crude, and loud, and smart, and honest, and friendly, and… well, maybe he wouldn’t be such a bad friend after all. It didn't matter much, though, since the mission was completed and Pleakley would return to his studies on the Galactic Federation soon, never to see Jumba Jookiba again.

Or so he thought.


	2. I’m Never Going Back Home

When the Council didn't invite them back to the ship, Pleakley didn't think much of it. He thought they would send another one to take them back to their respective planets any minute now. What they sent instead was a crushing notice: Wendy Pleakley and Jumba Jookiba had been exiled to planet Earth, and though they were not officially arrested, they couldn’t abandon the planet under any circumstance. The Galactic Federation stripped both of any prior title and informed them of their new status through a cold, unceremonious text message. They had no room to protest the decision.

“Exiled,” Pleakley gulped, his hearts sinking in his chest. Upon reading the notice, he had one big melodramatic meltdown, screaming at Jumba about how it was all his fault. The Kweltikwanian just stood there, not saying much except for acting falsely offended at the notion that he was responsible for anything. Actually, he didn't seem to care about staying there at all. And, well, it was far from being a cruel, hideous place of exile; the Pelekai family had not only welcomed them to stay around but offered to befriend and help them too. They had all started to rebuild the house (bigger this time, at Jumba’s insistence), and, thanks to the vastly more advanced tools on the spaceship and the capacity of the genius to upgrade nearly anything to a more effective version, it would only take a few days, less than a week, to repair all the damage. Meanwhile, both aliens slept on the ship, which had a couple bedrooms in it. Cold, empty, restroom-and-bed-only kind of bedrooms, but bedrooms nonetheless. The Pelekais had stayed in a motel first, David’s home later, and soon were able to move inside the new house. Nani couldn't have been more relieved.

“Exiled,” Pleakley said again, looking at the metallic wall of his small room. “How am I supposed to explain this to my colleagues? To my family?” That was one of the things he had yelled at Jumba earlier that evening.

“I don’t know. Tell them little one is sick of them,” Jumba had replied; the Plorgonarian couldn't tell if his tone was meant to be serious.

Pleakley had exploded with a series of native insults that fortunately only Stitch and Jumba were there to catch, making the former giggle and playfully repeat some. The big alien then had the nerve to scold HIM for teaching the experiment “bad manners”!

“See?” the genius exclaimed, as it became more obvious how much fun was he having with the argument. “Now 626 will go around saying nasty one-eyed words!”

“Does this look funny to you?” Pleakley burst out again. “You are laughing! We are trapped in this planet forever, with no job, no home, away from our families! And you’re LAUGHING!” He dramatically gesticulated in the air. “I will never become a teacher now! And all you care about is that devious little monster!”

“No monster!” Stitch had protested. But Pleakley wasn't paying attention to him, his rampage focused entirely on Jumba.

“I’m never coming home!” he ranted. “What will Pixley say? And mother…!” He stood there for a minute, hyperventilating. “I'm trapped here forever, in this corner of the galaxy! And it's all YOUR FAULT! Your fault, your fault, your fault!”

“Be calm!” the bigger alien replied, trying without luck not to laugh. Pleakley was repeatedly hitting him on the arm, screaming in a high-pitched voice, but his noodle fingers were not doing anything except making him look comedic. Like a little girl trying to take down a giant. “No hitting!” Jumba giggled again, before blasting into a full laughter streak.

“Oh, so you DO find this funny! That doesn't surprise me, since you're evil!” Pleakley scoffed, though it was obvious that his partner found the accusation more flattering than insulting. “Well, don’t expect ME to clean up after you!” he added in an overly sassy tone. Then he left the room, leaving Jumba and Stitch alone, the former still laughing maniacally.

That had been a few hours ago.

“Exiled.” For the third time, the word crossed his mind. When he had been talking with his mother over the communicator for the last few days, he hadn’t expected that would be the only way to speak with her for the rest of his life. He felt like sinking forever into the sad, empty bed. It wasn’t like it was that bad there, with the Pelekais, the fascinating Earth customs and being with… no, it was bad, and it was all Jumba’s fault. Had he followed his instructions, they would have captured the experiment, Pleakley would be back to the Federation, and he would never, ever, ever see Jumba again!

He regretted thinking that, mostly because he now recognized Stitch as a sentient, emotional creature that didn't deserve to be destroyed or left alone forever in a remote planet. And he wouldn't be able to sleep at night, thinking about poor little Lilo, if they had taken her “dog” away! Had they succeeded on the mission, that is; Pleakley had no idea if they had been that close anyway. But he still felt bad. They were just trying to deal with everything and keep going: Stitch, Lilo, Nani, David… and Jumba?

“He’s probably having sooooo much fun here,” the alien groaned, still upset from their last talk, “watching all this chaos.”

Then the night Jumba mulled over Stitch having nothing came back to his mind. Pleakley wondered again what kind of memories the Kweltikwanian had, if they were happy or sad; what had pushed a genius like him to waste his time creating illegal genetic experiments in an isolated laboratory in the middle of nowhere. He had previously thought that Jumba was just insane: some kind of mad, sadistic creature that wanted to conquer the galaxy or something. But the last few days had made Pleakley doubt that. Jumba didn’t even try to repair the spaceship and run away, despite being absolutely capable of doing so, and avoiding the Council forces would not have been that hard with some of his creative inventions.

Still, Pleakley couldn’t stand the idea of going there and talking about the exile with him. Jumba clearly didn't take it (or anything at all) very seriously; he was probably just glad to make another lab there and start a new destructive path across the island. All of this was his fault! It had to be!

Over the next couple days, Pleakley tried very subtly to avoid him, but it was difficult when he had to constantly intervene to stop the scientist from executing some new bizarre idea. At some point, Jumba had wanted to add a magma pool to the basement (which the Pelekais didn't even have) in order for Stitch to have a “cool private home spa.” Then he had tried to add a security door that scanned the retina (”Individually, all four!” he claimed proudly) to grant access or carbonize intruders right there on the spot. He didn't even see the problem when Pleakley reminded him of the mailmen! “Well, will adjust ray to not carbonize dead matter,” he clarified, like that solved anything. The Plorgonarian felt exhausted just trying to keep Jumba from killing someone. And the worst part was that the way Jumba grinned at him, Pleakley wasn't sure if he came with these extravagant ideas just to set him off.

The new house was almost done the night Pleakley sat on his bed, too tired to process anything about the crazy talk his partner was coming up with then.

“...and then evil genius can use them as fuel!” the Kweltikwanian concluded with a proud smile while spinning on the only chair present on his partner’s room. He had followed Pleakley around, incessantly explaining his dangerous proposals to him, even into his chamber. The green alien sat quietly on the bed, his eye fixed on the wall in front of him, and didn’t say a word. He had remained silent all the way there, with an absent expression on his face; and when he finally talked, the words seemed to cut the air around Jumba, who immediately stopped rambling.

“I’m never going back home,” Pleakley said calmly, eye still fixed on the wall. He sounded like he had just been made aware of the fact despite both of them knowing it for days at that point.

Jumba was silent for a few seconds, his smile fading away completely. Blinking his four eyes at different times, he looked perplexed, as if he had never considered the notion seriously before. He briefly looked at the other alien and then moved his sights to the automatic door in front of him.

“Me neither,” he said, blank face and blank voice. There was no sadness or regret in his words, but, truth be told, there was simply not a single emotion to be found there.

“You have no home!” Pleakley yelled explosively at him, all the rage he had been silently eating the last few days finally getting through. “You lived in some weird lab in the middle of nowhere, alone! You don’t know what it’s like to lose your home forever because you are a fugitive just waiting for us to get distracted so you can run to a new place to terrorize!”

Pleakley didn’t know how such a big creature could suddenly be so close to him before he could notice it, but by the end of that sentence, Jumba was just a few inches away from him, his face so close to Pleakley’s that the fear that he felt upon their first meeting came back abruptly.

“I do know!” Jumba yelled at him, his eyes filled with rage. “That lab was Jumba’s home!”

“That’s not a home!” the green alien yelled back, not thinking about his words anymore. “It’s a weird-looking place where a weird-looking guy like you was doing weird-looking things! I bet it wasn’t even the only one! I bet you had several scattered around to avoid the police better, you… you… big fat crazy monster!”

“One-eye doesn’t know a thing about me, _yuuga harash_!” Jumba cursed. Pleakley’s Tantalog was weak, but he knew that word. By the time he was ready to scream back some more insults, Jumba was gone, his heavy footsteps echoing through the spaceship.

“Fine!” the small alien declared, more to himself than anything. “If you’re going to be such a hassle, we don’t need you! I don’t need you! I’m going back home and then I won’t have to deal with you ever again!”

Yeah, he would call the Council and beg for forgiveness. He was even ready to serve some jail time, maybe a few years of community work; anything could make them reevaluate his exile, anything that allowed him to leave that pitiful planet and get away from that damn crazy Kweltikwanian. He couldn’t believe that he had almost considered them something similar to friends. Evil geniuses didn’t had friends, and that would stay that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Yuuga harash: You garbage


	3. It Was Only Polite to Say Hi

The next day, Jumba didn’t leave the ship once, shutting himself in the lab. As much as he tried to shoo the feeling away, Pleakley couldn’t help but wonder if he actually had hurt him, and the notion filled his head with guilt. No, it couldn’t be; the big guy never took him seriously. And he deserved it, anyway! He had been nothing but trouble so far. And at the end, he had only said the truth, right? A lab was not a home. He couldn't have been missing anything, with that constant mischievous smirk on his lips; he didn't even say a word about being exiled. No, no, the purple alien was fine, just working on some new useless and dangerous idea to annoy everyone around him. That was all.

Still, Pleakley was incapable of calling the Council that day, biting his lips every time he thought of saying that he would prefer being in jail to being near the peculiar scientist. It felt like too much.

When he walked to his room that night, the other door was open and he couldn’t resist a peek inside. Jumba was there, looking at the night sky through the one small window in complete silence, his big hand resting against the reinforced glass. It could have been a small reflection moment, but to Pleakley’s surprise, it kept going on and on. For several minutes, he stood there, looking at Jumba, waiting for him to turn around and start working on something or laugh at some new evil idea, or even just crack one of his terrible jokes. Anything. But he only stared at the stars outside, absent-minded. He still was when Pleakley finally decided to resume the walk to his bedroom and leave him alone.

Pleakley couldn’t sleep that night, thinking again about what kind of past Jumba had. Maybe he had something to miss. Maybe he really had a home he never could go back to, just like him. And maybe Pleakley did act like a piece of _harash_ about it. Guilt grew inside him until it became unbearable. Jumba was not a monster; Pleakley was, screaming at him like he did. And for what? For saying that he, too, was trapped there? For not being more dramatic about it? For trying to move on and restart his life? Pleakley felt like a coward. At least his partner was willing to work with their new situation. He had only denied it so far, to the point that hadn’t called his family yet to tell them he was not coming back. And he didn’t say a word to the Pelekais about not actually wanting to stay. He was a coward, and he lashed out at Jumba because Jumba was not. That was the only conclusion he could come up with.

Pleakley was surprised (and secretly relieved) to see the Kweltikwanian acting like his usual self the next morning. The evil genius was very excited about the final touches to the new house that, as he said, would be the “best base little planet ever had!”. Feeling so happy to see he was fine only served to made Pleakley’s guilt even worse. He had to fix what he had done. He didn’t hate the planet, or Jumba, and Jumba certainly didn’t deserve to think Pleakley considered him a crazy purple guy. As annoying or troublesome the scientist could be sometimes, his positive energy was contagious and comforting, and he was working hard on earning his place as part of Lilo’s _ohana_.

“Hey!” the green alien squeaked after entering Jumba’s lab, trying to sound as positive and casual as he could. “So I was walking through the hall - did I tell you the halls are quite lovely? All that nice, shiny metal without windows or any decoration!” He stopped himself, unable to completely suppress the sarcastic tone in his words “And I saw a light on in here, so I thought it was only polite to say hi!”

Jumba blinked at him repeatedly. He sat on a big chair, surrounded by all kinds of seemingly disarmed gadgets that covered the floor, using a screwdriver to open a new one on his lap. “Hi?” he replied, confused, wondering what Pleakley was even doing there when he hated to plant even a foot inside that room.

“Yes, hi!” Pleakley exclaimed, nervously fixing his orange dress. Jumba didn’t fail to notice the strange little package he was carrying. “And now that we said hi to each other, it’s a human custom to carry on the conversation by talking about other topics!” the slim alien proceeded, nearly screaming the words for no reason.

“Talk?” was all Jumba was able to mutter.

“Talking, talking! We are talking now! So now that we are, I was thinking…” his voice lowered a bit. “…that maaaaaybe I was a tiny, teeny bit too hard on you the other night. You are exiled too, and… I guess you do have a place you miss out there.”

“Ha, no worries.” Jumba tried to dismiss, but his tone wasn’t as light as he had intended. “Tons of places to be an evil genius. Not going all mushy-mushy for one.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Pleakley continued. He knew that this was the point when he should say sorry, but couldn’t quite bring himself to it. “Gift!” he gasped abruptly. “I have a gift for you! Well, it’s not a gift, it’s a thing that I give you permanently, which sounds like a gift, but it’s not quite one because, well, gifts are a complex thing and…”

“Gift?” Jumba asked, curious, while the other alien was going on and on about gifts and their importance as an Earth custom. He left the gadget he was working on on the floor and got close enough to Pleakley to snap the package from his hands.

“...which is for some reason only appropriate at weddings. Hey! I’m supposed to do the exchange part!” Pleakley protested. But Jumba was already tearing off the wrapping like an impatient child on Christmas morning. Inside, there was a piece of cloth that, when unfolded, revealed itself to be a short-sleeved human shirt. It was black and generously decorated with a galaxy motif, with stars and constellations everywhere. Jumba held it between them, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Well, you know, since we are staying here,” Pleakley nervously added, “I thought we should get some… local garments”. He stared at the shirt in dismay, though; there was no way Jumba could wear it. It was far too small “But this is clearly a bad selection! If you give it back to me, I will find something different that…!”

“No!” the big alien shouted, which scared his partner at first. “No! This is mine! Do not touch!” He turned around, squishing the shirt in his hands, away from the other’s reach.

“But you can’t wear that!”

“Do not care; don’t touch my things.”

“You’re acting like a child,” the green alien sighed, hands on his hips (or the equivalent of them). “Fine, keep it, but don’t forget it on the floor somewhere like this huge mess you have here!”

“What mess?” Jumba innocently asked with a smile, although it was quite obvious, with all the wires and electronic parts scattered through the room.

“You know damn well what mess! Now, Lilo has asked me if we can finish her and Stitch’s room tomorrow, so please don’t stay awake all night. The house is almost done!” Pleakley clapped his hands, feeling less nervous now that they were talking like they used to. “We’ll find new clothes too, in the evening. I can’t wait to explore more of Earth fashion!”

“Okay, okay, will go for evil rest soon,” Jumba complied.

“And don’t leave the supercomputer on; it wastes a lot of energy. Good night!” Pleakley proclaimed happily as he left the lab, feeling so light now that everything looked to be fine again between them.

“Good night,” his partner replied, sitting down again while rubbing the back of his neck. What a strange night.

Jumba never told anyone, but he kept the shirt because in the middle of the night, when everything was quiet and the real stars were too far away, he hugged the small galaxy on the cloth between his fingers, and somehow, he didn’t feel that lonely anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Harash: Garbage


	4. That’s Such a Childish Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: HOMOPHOBIA -EXPLICIT AND INTERNALITZED-; REFERENCED MASTURBATION; REFERENCED SEXUAL TENSION
> 
> This chapter is the beginning of what will be a lot of lore regarding Plorgonar; and later Kweltikwan and Turo too. As almost of all would be obviously made up, I will do my best to keep it canon compliant. I hope you enjoy it!

On Plorgonar, things were a lot more structured. The residents lived their nearly-identical lives in their nearly-identical houses, and they concerned themselves very much with how others perceived them. Families consisted of two individuals (one male, one female) and an acceptable number of offspring. Maybe a pet. All of the members had distinct roles to follow and a rather narrow range of things they were allowed to enjoy. Not adhering to the norm was punished with becoming an outcast, which, for the incredibly social Plorgonarians, was the worst sentence possible.

“You mean… in the house?” Pleakley gulped, consumed by some undetermined anxiety.

“Yes!” Jumba exclaimed for the third time, tired of repeating himself. What was so hard to understand? It was not rocket science! “Pleakley complains nonstop about ship bedroom, so when Nani offered cozy human room for us, I said yes!”

The slim alien started fidgeting with his hands. Yes, it was true: he hated the claustrophobic, ugly ship bedroom. Moving to the much nicer Pelekai house was exactly what Pleakley wanted to do. But there was one problem, a problem Jumba didn’t seem to notice or care about, that made things not so ideal: there was only one room.

“Well, it IS cozy…” he mumbled, trying to figure out how to bring up the “but”. Jumba didn’t let him.

“So there’s no problem!” the purple alien concluded, not letting the other finish. This conversation had been going on too long for his taste already. “Pack your things; we’ll move tomorrow when new beds arrive. I’m going with 626 and Lilo to something called ‘furniture store.’ Very human!”

And with that, the Kweltikwanian left, humming a happy melody, which he probably knew from one of Lilo’s vinyl collection. Pleakley remained there, still trying to articulate some kind of protest without directly bringing up why it was not such a good idea.

Plorgonarians were, in human terms, aggressively homophobic. Even if, for some reason, one of them didn’t want to marry within their race (which would be odd, but not completely out of social contemplation), they would accept choosing another species entirely as long as the partner was from the opposite sex. That, of course, discarded any race without binary sex structure, but Kweltikwanians were not in that pool. No, the problem was that Jumba was male and he wanted to share a bedroom. Sharing a sleeping area with another individual of the same sex was a huge no-no on Plorgonar, and there was barely an exception for siblings and members of more multicultural organizations using communal facilities with several people. Even in different beds, it was just WRONG.

But Pleakley couldn’t just say to the scientist that sharing the room was inappropriate since they were both male, because, inevitably, the next question would be “Why?”, and that was something he didn’t have the answer to. It just was.

He cursed the moment Nani decided to be her hospitable self and invite them in, but he knew he was being unfair there. It was just that the last couple weeks had been going so well for Jumba and himself (minus the ship-room complaints Pleakley definitely regretted doing now). The gift had worked quite well as a peace offering, and not only did Jumba renew his friendly behavior towards him, but he even seemed to tone down his most disruptive habits a little. He still left trash everywhere, annoyed others with his science ramblings, and never seemed to catch why it was necessary to do laundry from time to time, but at least he was not actively trying to kill anyone.

However, the green alien was used to a very clean, organized environment, so he quickly got used to picking up after the scientist to keep things as he wanted them, and soon started noticing… he kind of enjoyed cleaning. Not all of it, not all the time, but he liked the feeling that invaded him once everything was done, clean and tidied up again. In a curious way, he was enjoying taking care of housework for his new family and found himself getting a growing interest in other similar activities, such as cooking, sewing, buying groceries and acquiring new decorations for the place. He just wished Nani understood why it was so VITAL to put some flowers in the hall and give the space some color!

Jumba and his ship were much, much worse. Pleakley wasn’t allowed to change anything, not even on his own room; and he hated it. At least he was able to keep it clean and bring his partner a snack from time to time, but moving to the house sounded so good in comparison…

No, it was not good. He shouldn’t feel nice about it. It was inappropriate and uncalled for, and Pleakley wished such an awkward situation was not suddenly there, threatening the nice relationship he had been slowly building with the Kweltikwanian. But even more, Pleakley wished that weird tingle in his stomach would disappear already. The same one he had when thinking about sharing space with other males, back when his puberty hit, and he realized that females (not only Plorgonarian ones, but all of them) were not something he could quite take an interest on.

He tried, he really did. Too many magazines under the bed, some of them of shady origin, just to find a female, any female that made him feel the same tingle inside. There weren’t any. But when some of his male classmates grew up and started looking more like adults and less like children, he couldn’t help but notice some of them were cute. Handsome. Very, very alluring. Some of them came to his mind when he was alone, and something warm and clingy seemed to grow inside him, more and more, until it was unbearable and Pleakley had to resort to self-pleasuring.

He always felt guilty, unclean, and an utter failure. But it was just another one of his flaws, another disappointment for his family, another downfall on his already-huge list of mistakes. He had managed to keep this one secret from everybody but himself, but now… it was not that Jumba in particular had that kind of effect on him (goodness, no!), but it was just TOO close to the very thing about himself he had been ignoring for years, repressed under a pile of work and hobbies and denial. And now the damn tingle was back and he didn’t know what to do.

So he did what he knew best: he denied the tingle. It was not there; it was his imagination. Sharing a room was not awkward; it was just that Kweltikwanians were a chaotic species that surely just slept anywhere so they didn’t have to bother to clean a room. Yep, that was it; this didn’t mean anything. Not for the family, not for the room, not for Jumba, and absolutely not for him.

Still, he nearly had a double heart attack when the next day, Jumba eagerly entered the ship and headed directly to the green alien’s room.

“It is done!” he proclaimed with a big smile. “Human builders have finished the bed. Quick, come see!” He was already gone when the Plorgonarian reacted.

“W-wait, WHAT? The bed? AS IN SINGULAR?” Pleakley screamed, panicking hard. He had accepted the new arrangement of the single room, but never, not in a thousand years, could he let himself agree to share the bed. He started running after the big alien, but wasn’t unable to catch him before they both were already in their new room.

“Oh, thank the stars,” Pleakley mumbled. What Jumba was probably trying to say was that it was a single structure but still consisted of two individual beds. _Bunk bed_ , he thought. Such invention had no place on Plorgonar, but he had seen them before in the smaller sectors of the Galactic Federation. It was a clever trick to save space when there were too many staff members and not enough rooms, but Pleakley considered himself lucky to not have any experience with them.

“Beautiful!” Jumba smiled, excited. “I take the top bunk!” He threw himself on the poor thing, climbing the ladder and laying on the mattress, which started to sink under the weight. It was a miracle it wasn’t breaking apart.

“We were going to get two beds!” Pleakley protested once his anxiety wore off. “Why did you take a bunk bed?”

“Because,” the purple alien replied, giggling, “evil genius like top bunk.”

“Now mister, that’s such a childish reason!” The Plorgonarian soon regained his usual sassy tone. “Besides, I’M far lighter than you, so I should take the top bunk!”

“No way! One-eyed one sleeps on bottom bunk.” He pointed at it. “As he failed to claim the top one on time. Bad luck!”

“That’s not fair! I wasn’t prepared! You’re cheating.”

“Oh, thanks!” Jumba said like he was just complimented.

“I didn’t mean that in a good way!” Pleakley gasped. He didn’t even know why they were arguing. He couldn’t have cared less about what bed would he be occupying. It was just that he was actually having a good time. “You’re bad at sharing! I want my chance too!”

Pleakley took a pillow and started hitting Jumba with it, protesting the deal. The scientist couldn’t stop laughing at the scene, and once or twice, the green alien found himself giggling too. Fighting with pillows was unexpectedly fun.

That didn’t stop the first night from being incredibly awkward for him.


	5. Please Don’t Call Me That

Jumba did successfully claim the top bunk as his, so Pleakley had to use the small space between his own mattress and the sinking one above. He didn’t care about the size much, as he had an small, elastic body, but the fear that the bed could collapse and he would suddenly find himself under Jumba’s huge body terrified him.

And that wasn’t even the worst part, no. What made every minute a small agony by itself was how CLOSE Jumba was to Pleakley. The purple alien was snoring heavily, his limp arm hanging just beside the Plorgonarian head. Pleakley could deal with the rest of the body, with the mattress between them like a soft shield, but that arm… the sturdy, short fingers moved slowly every few seconds, sometimes so close to Pleakley’s skin that he felt like screaming.

What could he do, anyway? He tried to softly call Jumba’s name, but Jumba was a heavy sleeper and the green alien would need to yell for him to wake up. That was not an option because it would wake up the others too and they would wonder what the big deal was, and then Nani would kill him. He could try to kick the top bunk until Jumba woke up, but then he might break the bed, and everyone would wake up and Nani would kill him. And he was NOT touching Jumba’s arm in order to remove it, because if that woke up the other alien, he would die of embarrassment, and if not, well, he still would be touching Jumba’s bare skin in the middle of the night while he was sleeping! Sleeping so close to him that he could hear him mumbling, notice every little move his fingers did, the notion of even touching another man like that… ah, that damn tingle again.

 _Well, that’s it_ , he thought to himself resignedly. _I’m not getting sleep tonight_. He slid carefully between the blankets, dodging Jumba’s hand like a snake. Now free from that awkward position, he decided to go to the kitchen and serve himself a glass of milk: a thing he had learned humans liked to do when they couldn’t get rest.

Pleakley sat at the table with a glass full of milk and a tired eye, and wondered why the hell this was such a big deal for him now, when they had already camped together while chasing Stitch. Maybe it was because it hadn’t felt like they were alone then, as they were just in the middle of the forest laying on the ground. Maybe Pleakley had been in too much pain because of the mosquito bites that viciously attacked him every night, and he could only think about surviving the morning. Maybe it was because Jumba hadn’t really slept much back then, more worried on tracking his creation, so it didn’t feel as intimate.

“Share!”

He remembered the wig accident, when the big alien had caught him trying a new, pretty one. He was very surprised back then when Jumba didn’t laugh or say a single mean word to him for it, but that was not something that shocked him anymore. Now he felt puzzled about how Jumba had wrestled him for the wig, on Pleakley’s bed no less, and he didn’t even register it. It had been a far more physical contact than touching his arm could ever entail, and he just forgot about it moments later.

But, to be fair, those first days felt like a fever dream, a wild ride of new experiences and feelings that occurred too quickly for him to correctly digest while they were happening. For the first time in his life, he was away from rules and boundaries and social expectations; there was no family, no planet, no Federation, no one that could judge him. He was just having fun, honest fun. Not all of the trip was like that (in fact, most of it was quite terrible!), but in those few quiet moments, with only Jumba and Pleakley, all the anxiety about himself just disappeared between too many other emotions. He didn’t register the wrestling as wrong because there was no one there that could point out that it was.

There was no one to point it out now, he thought. But it was very different. Back then, he was only supposed to be with Jumba for a couple days, and then they would part forever. No one would ever, ever know about it. And if someone knew, well, Jumba was the one that jumped on him! Pleakley clearly had nothing to do with it! He could claim Jumba was a crude, insane criminal and no one would judge him for that. But now he was willingly staying in the same room, and the Kweltikwanian was sleeping and couldn’t be blamed for anything. So it was different. If anybody learned about it, he would become an outcast, and it would be a deserved punishment not only for breaking a clear social norm but even liking the idea. Now it was entirely his fault.

He looked at the still full glass of milk and felt kind of angry, looking at his reflection. His family was not there, nor did they have to know anything about his life. He was a grown adult. And if the Pelekais were fine with it, that meant it was fine on Earth, and he should be complying with Earth customs! It didn’t mean anything anyway. So what if Jumba were male? He didn’t feel any attraction to him; not in a thousand years would he ever think of trying anything. They were in separate beds, they had been a lot closer to each other during the day, this was not weird, this was not important, this was not...

When the oval communicator on the table started vibrating, Pleakley almost threw the glass at the air in a panic. He KNEW who it was.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” he mumbled, frantically cleaning the spilled milk off the counter surface. He took two big, long breaths to compose himself before answering the call.

“Helloooo?” he said in the politest tone he was able to muster.

“Wendy, my dear!” the familiar voice of his mother echoed in the empty kitchen.

“Mom, please don’t call me that,” the alien sighed, embarrassed.

“This again? I don’t understand what the problem is; it’s such a nice name!” his mother lamented.

Pleakley had never told her the simple truth: he was not a warrior, he would never be brave, and such a righteous name was simply not fit for a disappointing creature like himself. But he didn’t want to make things worse.

“Fine, I won’t call you Wendy,” she complied. “But I didn’t call you about that.”

“I-I know I haven’t been calling much…” he shivered.

“Yes, well, I understand things are… complicated now,” she agreed. Pleakley’s family had received the news of his exile with great dismay, and on behalf of their public image, they had tried to cover it up by telling others he was on some research campaign on Earth. “But we can still fix it. I think that you would be a lot happier if you put your life together. You know… with a good marriage.”

“Mother, I don’t have time to think about marriage. There’s a lot of research to do on this planet. Who would I even marry here?” Pleakley tried to explain.

“Of course there’s no Plorgonarians there, but you still could look around for a good girl. If you don’t have time, though, there’s no need to worry.”

“There isn’t?” he squealed. Was it possible that his mother accepted he didn’t want to marry?

“Of course not. That’s what arranged marriages are for,” she proceeded. Of course. “I will take care of everything for you. I mean, in case you can’t find a wife…”

“I’ll look into it, mom, I promise,” her son replied. “But PLEASE don’t do anything yet. I’m not ready for such a big step. I’m just starting to properly understand Earth customs.”

Mrs. Pleakley sighed and subtly rolled her eye. “I guess it’s not imperative you marry right now, but… please find a good girl and start a family or I will need to do it for you.”

“How is Bertley doing with his girlfriend?” the alien spit out, desperate to change the subject.

“Oh, I think they may split up. You see, she was at the park the other day, you know, the one with the big lake and the Tetram store with that delicious treats? And then she found Moxie; do you remember her? We used to go to her house together when Pixley was ill because of the trip accident, you know the one, she…”

Pleakley quietly listened to the endless gossip of his mother, nodding monotonously and repeating “Yes” and “Uh-huh” here and there. But he was no longer paying attention to it. He was thinking about marriage.

On Plorgonar, parents arranging their children marriages was very common. It constituted about 70 percent of marriages, with only a minority wanting to choose their own partner. The line of thought was that your parents know what’s best for you, so they would be able to select the perfect person for you to be with. Of course, that was not always the case, but although it was not technically forbidden to decline the arrangement, it was extremely looked down upon to do so.

Pleakley’s mother had been married by arrangement too, and her marriage did actually go very well for her, so of course she thought it was for the best to do the same to her children. She wanted to start with Wendy, the oldest sibling (albeit just for a few hours, since the three of them were born the same day), and couldn’t quite comprehend why he was so reluctant; he haven’t dated any girl yet, despite having several interested in him over the years. Mrs. Pleakley guessed that he was just enjoying his youth, having rebellious fun, and being a babe magnet around the galaxy, and decided to look the other way for a while. But Wendy was not that young anymore, and at some point, he had to settle down, choose a wife, and start a family. Then the family could convince the Council to let him return to Plorgonar and everything would be like it was supposed to. Oh, if only his father could see him now, rest his soul…!

In other circumstances, Pleakley would have accepted the arranged marriage. He was far from rebellious and only wanted to follow the norms and have a quiet life. He did believe the system could work quite well for him, except… they would choose a lady. Of course they would; why wouldn’t they? And then the lady would know he didn’t like females because Pleakley was a terrible liar and a terrible actor, and then she would tell his family and then shame would be brought upon their name! And they would hate him, and think of him as even more of a failure (if that was even possible) and wish he never returned from his exile. Anxiety was growing inside him again, eating him alive, while he pretended to be interested in whatever the sister of the friend of his cousin was doing these days.

Upon hanging up, he found himself very happy to be there, exiled on Earth, and not on Plorgonar. He was not pretending to enjoy his new home, he realized: he was enjoying it. He loved having all that Earth knowledge at the tips of his fingers, discovering new and fascinating facts every day. He loved being able to read about cooking or sewing or that fascinating world of what humans called “wigs” without anyone there to remind him he wasn’t supposed to like those things. He loved disguising himself (was it still a disguise?) as a pretty human female and no one would bat an eye at it here! He loved being around the warm protection of Nani, the innocent nature of Lilo, the surprisingly well-behaved (for the most part) Stitch, and the contagious excitement of Jumba. He loved being part of that little broken family, where no one was perfect because no one was trying to be.

Well, “family” was maybe too strong of a word. He already had a family. But Lilo called them part of her _ohana_ , and he wasn’t going to correct that. Not because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but because he did want to be part of the _ohana_. That little, imperfect, wonderful _ohana_.

He was making a fuss about nothing back in the room. No one cared. No, here on Earth, no one cared; he could be himself and no-one cared! He had the sudden urge to go wake up Jumba and hug him; hug him and laugh and celebrate that he was FREE. But poor Jumba wouldn’t understand what in the galaxy was happening and would maybe shoot him with a plasma cannon or worse.

So he walked back to their room in silence, feeling relieved and tired. The bigger alien had rolled his body to the side and curled his limbs around himself, so there was no longer a menacing arm between Pleakley and his bed. Pleakley scurried back into the blankets and his eye blinked slowly, with not even the loud snoring sounds of the top bunk disrupting him.

 _I guess the bed will hold out_ was the last thing he thought before falling asleep.


	6. Maybe We Should Go Together?

Nani sighed loudly at the big pile of laundry resting on the basket. There was no way all that fabric would fit on the washing machine. She would need two, maybe three rounds to clean everything, and she just had no time for it. There were so many errands to do!

There was no point in lamenting. She would figure it out later, when the first batch was completed. Still, Nani couldn’t help but wonder how a house of two could become four people using clothes and five eating, two of them like freaking animals! As far as she knew, Stitch didn’t even NEED to eat; that little bastard just liked the taste of human food. Housework had increased dramatically, and thank God one of the aliens liked to clean and tidy up, because otherwise, there was no way she could have kept up with it. She didn’t even know why there were a purple mad scientist and a big-eyed noodle living there! Like Lilo was not hard enough to keep an eye on!

Maybe she was being a little harsh. She liked them, in a way, and they did help. They babysat for her, fixed things around the house, and aided with chores. Most of the time, they were absolutely awful at all of it, but they tried. Even if they weren’t the best assistants, at least it was comforting to not be the only adult around anymore. She didn’t need to raise Lilo on her own and fight just to keep custody. Somehow, the two aliens brought a lot more peace of mind and stability than what they could even imagine.

“Still,” she muttered, “they are so weird.”

They were. She remembered screaming at them about Lilo when they just met. She hadn’t cared that they were aliens then; she hadn’t cared if they were dangerous or good or bad, or what they were doing with Stitch. She had only wanted her little sister back. When they had said to her that Lilo was gone, she collapsed in tears on the ground, devastated. And when they suddenly changed their minds (did Stitch cause that? She couldn’t recall), they brought her to a damn spaceship and Nani found herself in the middle of a frantic chase. When she was later reunited with Lilo, she was just so happy her little sister was okay, and that Stitch was going to stay too, and that everything was finally going to be fine... that she didn’t notice that the strange duo who had helped her was left behind.

“Come on, Lilo,” she had said “We need to go back.”

“Are they coming too?” her little sister asked, pointing at Jumba and Pleakley. The pair stood there awkwardly, clearly feeling lost as to what they should do.

“Lilo, I don’t think they… want to come with us, honey,” Nani pointed out. “They will have places to go back to, too.”

“But they are _ohana_!” the little girl protested. “We can’t leave them here…” The sweet, caring way Lilo looked at them made both aliens melt a little inside.

“ _Ohana_?” Nani frowned. How would exactly those two be _ohana_?

“He made Stitch!” Lilo pointed at Jumba “So he’s like his father. So he’s _ohana_!”

“Lilo, I don’t think…” the big sister tried to argue, without luck.

“And you all came together to rescue me! Like a family would.” Oh, not the puppy eyes. “We can’t leave them alone. They are lost, like Stitch was.”

Darned puppy eyes: Lilo knew exactly how to use them against her. “Fine,” Nani exhaled, resigned. She couldn’t fight those eyes.

“Yeah! We’re all going home!” The little girl celebrated, jumping around.

“ _Achi-baba chi meetoh_!” Stitch exclaimed, excited, as he ran to his creator and started to climb around him in circles, making him laugh loudly. “ _Meega hajmha sihkism ih_!”

“My little monstrosity! You almost killed us all!” Jumba grinned, obviously proud of that fact.

“ _Ashi salaam_?” the furry experiment inquired.

“ _Graazi_. Four eyes still here,” the scientist replied happily before being interrupted by Pleakley:

“What is he saying?”

“He asks us if we are fine.” his four eyes sparkled with excitement “Little girl surely has big effect on 626!”

Nani stood there, looking at the three aliens. What was she supposed to do with them? Just bring them home and cook dinner?

“Nani!” The familiar voice of David brought her back to reality; everything was becoming just too much. “I heard about the house. I… I’m sorry.” he touched her shoulder in a comforting manner.

“The house! I forgot about the house!” she yelled, frustrated, once the realization hit her. “There’s nothing left! Where are we supposed to live now…?” Nani passed her hands over her face, on the edge of a meltdown.

“Oh, the house,” Lilo realized, a lot calmer “I forgot too.”

“I can fix that.”

“How?” Nani blurted, pulling her hair. “It’s completely destroyed! We don’t have money to hire anyone! We don’t have any material! We are going to end up on the streets!”

“I can fix that,” the voice repeated in the same calm manner, and Nani realized she had answered before knowing who was speaking. Upon raising her head, she found the big purple alien staring at her, with Stitch still resting on his shoulder.

“Of course, appropriate tools are required” he continued. “We have to take ship from sea. 626 can carry it if we get suitable floating device. Primitive Earth wood is plentiful resource, and one-eyed one can use expert knowledge for useless cloth garments. With parts of ship, evil genius can build an elevator that…”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait.” Nani stopped him “Are you serious? You think we can just go and build an ENTIRE HOUSE from scratch?”

“Of course!” Jumba replied, frustrating her more. “If we start now, can have it finished in five days!”

“Five days?” Nani exclaimed, unable to believe anything she was hearing.

“ _Ih_!” was the plain answer Stitch offered her.

“How can we help?” Lilo jumped immediately. Her little sister was a lot faster at processing that kind of situation than she.

“Surfer boy, go ask for floating device,” Jumba told David without letting him protest. “Not pitiful little one; something big, with motor!” Then he looked at Lilo. “626 can start cleaning area; can’t build anything on pile of burned remains. You, little girl, find personal valuables that survived explosion.”

“On it!” Lilo replied obediently, and with Stitch after her, she started running back to the place where the old house’s remains were.

“I need help to determine what Earth technology can we use as replacement for usual tools,” he continued, now looking at Pleakley. “Quick, no time to lose.”

And with that, all of them except for David were gone.

“Are you alright?” the surfer asked Nani. “I should probably go and look for that boat. Maybe we should go together?”

“I’m fine, I guess…” They were really, really just going to go and fix the house? It felt oddly relieving not be the one that had to take care of the mess for once. “Where’s Cobra?” Nani asked, noticing the agent was no longer around.

“He left. He said his job here was done,” David informed her.

“Oh… I guess we should get that boat, then,” Nani replied, feeling better. They were really going to do it. They were going to fix the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Achi-baba chi meetoh: I got you now, my friend  
> · Meega hajmha sihkism ih!: I'm really happy!  
> · Ashi salaam?: How are you?  
> · Graazi: Fine  
> · Ih: Yes


	7. Bigger Is Always Better

And so they did: in six days (Jumba shut himself in his laboratory for the entirety of one for no apparent reason and delayed the progress), the Pelekai residence was completed again, this time bigger and steadier. The inoperative spaceship was left hiding in the woods nearby with the alien duo living there, and the rest moved to the main residence as soon as they could. The purple scientist had insisted on all kind of dangerous ideas at first, but Nani and Pleakley had convinced him to just build a normal house. Well, for the most part. He had insisted on at least making it bigger and adding an attic for Lilo (an idea that the little sister loved), and Nani couldn’t quite say no. After all, maybe Jumba and Pleakley were bizarre creatures from outer space, but they were rebuilding her house for free and hadn’t asked for a single thing in return. So the house ended up having two additional rooms, including an attic only accessible through a vacuum-tube elevator that escaped Nani’s overseeing during construction. It was quite crazy, but Lilo was happy, Stitch was doing his best to behave and Nani was just relieved everything was going smoothly. She even considered dating David, who had been by her side during all the madness and for whom she had clear feelings.

“We’re not dating, but we can have time sometimes. You know, like friends with benefits?” she finally offered him.

“I would prefer dating, but you really have too much to take care of right now,” David said, kind of worried. “I mean, I don’t wanna interrogate you, but how is it living with three aliens?”

“Messy,” she sighed, annoyed.

David laughed, passing a hand through his hair. “So it’s fine if I stay for the night here from time to time?” he went on. “You know, as friends?”

“David, if we are going to have casual sex, just call it like it is,” Nani replied. “You can come, sometimes. We can go out - when my work lets me, anyway. We can cuddle and tell each other a little about our problems, and, of course, we are having sex,” she clarified “But… I can’t really see myself having more at this point; there’s so much happening, and a relationship is… more than I can take now. I hope you understand.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” David rested a hand on one of her legs in a friendly manner. “To be honest, I don’t think I could do it either. There's so many things changing now and I don’t want to make them harder, not for you but not for me either. So I’ll just hang close for a while, if that’s okay with you.”

“Thanks, David.” Nani smiled. “Yes, I think that will work.”

After kissing him goodbye, Nani was left in the door of the empty house. Lilo was hula dancing with Stitch, Pleakley was in town buying groceries (of course disguised as a human woman), and Jumba… she didn’t know what was Jumba doing, but figured she probably didn’t want to. _Enough of the self-pity today_ , she thought, even though she hadn’t had a chance to have such things on her mind yet. “The floor isn’t mopping itself.”

Putting on a functional apron, Nani started taking cleaning products from the kitchen sink and filled a bucket with warm water. She gathered everything together the best her arms allowed her to and walked to the furthest part of the house: Lilo’s old room, now only occupied by a few boxes, since she didn’t knew what to do with it. The expansion had left two extra rooms empty, and although Nani was already using one like a traditional attic, the other remained without function. The only thing the additional space was doing for her was adding more floor to mop.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice asked behind her. Jumba, she recognized.

“Mopping. You know, the thing that allows you to go around without getting attached to the floor,” Nani growled, looking at the huge footsteps of dirt the big alien had left everywhere. Why were his footsteps in this room, anyway…?

“Ah! Pleakley does that too,” Jumba exclaimed. “But with big intellect, is no time for such things.”

“And here I was thinking you were coming to help…” Nani added sarcastically. She knew by now that the scientist would rather destroy an entire piece of furniture and take the time to make a new one before thinking of cleaning it.

“Well, you should be happy!” Jumba said, prompting an incredulous look from Nani. “I made house better. Is hardier, has cool elevator and, most important, is bigger! Bigger is always better!”

“Maybe, if you’re not the one who mops,” the woman protested. “Look, I’m really thankful for all what you did here, but I really didn’t need that much space.” She didn’t want to sound rude and hoped that wasn’t a highly-offensive expression in space. “I don’t even know what to put in here.”

“Obviously, your own evil lab,” Jumba suggested, making Nani giggle. Sometimes, talking with the aliens could be pretty entertaining. “So this chamber has no purpose?”

She felt kind of thrown back by the sudden, weird question. “No, no, it’s… empty,” she replied. Her stupid manners acted faster than her rational brain could. “So you guys…” _Oh, no, no, no, -_ “...want to use it?” Damn those good habits of hers. Too late; the offer had been made.

“We can use it?” The big guy grinned. Nani nodded with the least convincing expression in the world.

_Please say no, please say no, please say no._

“Good idea! Pleakley always complains of ship, blah blah blah! He would love it here.” Jumba raised his arms. “And will be perfect for evil genius! No need to walk to ship every time I have new, brilliant idea!”

Great; she had just invited a mad scientist to live with them. She hoped Pleakley would be enough to stop him from destroying the house from the inside. Speaking of which, there was only one available room…

“So you guys are…?” Nani tried to ask awkwardly, pointing back and forth with her fingers, hoping Jumba would finish the sentence for her.

“Are what?” he replied instead, oblivious. After a few more seconds of clumsily gesturing and receiving just a confused look in return, Nani slowly stopped moving and bit her upper lip.

“Never mind.” She gave up. “Just please don’t bring anything deadly into the house.”

“Can’t promise.” Jumba shrugged, leaving her alone again.

That had been two months ago.

Nani’s fears had been surprisingly inaccurate. The duo had moved in with a bunk bed (not what she had thought, then) and the room was still mainly a room. There was nothing dangerous in there, at least that she could tell by looking, and it was kept in fairly decent order. For most of his big scientific projects, Jumba still used the big lab on the ship, and only resorted to experimenting in the house with more innocuous things… for the most part. A little explosion here and there, some obvious lies and lots of duct tape, but nothing huge or lethal like Nani had expected to end up having in the middle of the hall.

Oddly enough, the problematic one ended up being Pleakley more than Jumba, him getting on Nani’s nerves with his lack of boundaries regarding property. He used her toothbrush to clean his own tongues, had the habit of eating whatever he found around the house without asking if it was someone else’s, took her makeup without permission and constantly nagged Nani about things not being clean enough. It made her want to scream sometimes. But at least he was helpful and responsible, and the only one stopping Jumba from blowing up the place. What kind of relationship those two had was hard for her to figure out.

Sometimes they acted like adversaries, sometimes like friends, and sometimes like an old married couple. What she had found, mostly through Lilo (since both of the aliens were quite afraid of her after a few screaming sessions), was that Jumba was sort of a forgiven criminal that had nowhere to return off the planet and Pleakley some kind of galactic agent that studied Earth and was definitely (”For sure,” Lilo assured her) a male.

They had some human clothes that they had used to disguise themselves around the island, and although they didn’t look very convincing, it was enough for people to look away. Nani guessed it had all been stolen from somewhere, so she proposed to the pair to go shopping for a couple new outfits at the secondhand shop. She wasn’t sure she could stop the smaller alien from going to town (Pleakley didn’t love anything more than looking at the storefronts), but he could at least get some less feminine attire, and as for Jumba… Nani just really didn’t want him to run out of pants.

“Male Earth fashion is so dull!” the green alien had protested, trying on a simple brown suit and hat. “Where’s the fun? The color?”

“Are you sure you don’t like anything in this section?” Nani tried for the fifth time.

“Well, this one is rather interesting,” Pleakley replied, taking a frilly sailor uniform designed for a kid. Of course. Meanwhile, Jumba walked by them with some clothes lazily resting on his arm and a terribly bored expression.

“No, no, no!” Nani stopped him. “You’re supposed to try them to see if they fit! That’s the only reason you’re here!”

“Aww, but evil genius doesn’t want to! This is so boring already. Is not a single hand in this second hand shop!” the purple alien protested while his partner scurried (again) to the women’s section.

What a mess that had been. At the end, Pleakley had taken a few dresses and only a single shirt, and Jumba had the same pants and shirt (a Hawaiian-patterned one, intended for big tourists) in several colors because he refused to try more than one outfit.

They were quite a duo, but had a lot of chemistry. As the months passed, their fights were less frequent, and when one arose, it had some kind of complexity to it. For being exiled aliens from different species, they had formed a very traditional relationship, with Pleakley taking the role of a caretaker and Jumba offering him stability in return. Honestly, Nani didn’t know much about their past, but she couldn’t figure out how either of them had functioned without the other before. As good as the scientist was at keeping his cool, he was also an absolute mess when it came to taking care of himself, and it was Pleakley who forced him to eat, rest and preserve some order. And the former agent could be meticulous and organized, but his anxiety triggered at almost anything, so it was the presence of the laid-back Jumba that kept him calm enough to carry on.

Eventually, they even started hanging out together, watching TV or sharing their opinion on the latest (badly misunderstood) human custom they had learned about. To Nani’s dismay, they also shared a love for junk food; especially Pleakley, who literally ate his feelings’ worth in sweets every time he had a meltdown. Despite their different interests, Nani had grown used to seeing them together all the time, but she also felt their relationship wasn’t as genuine as it should have been. The pair had found roles that were comfortable for them and settled, and at this point, it was almost an act they put on for each other. It was obvious they had fun, but Nani wondered how much they talked. Not that practically-scripted arguing they had constructed, but actually talking straight from the heart, without pretenses or fears. She didn’t want to say anything, though; it was not her place, and she didn’t know a thing about alien relationships anyway.

But after seeing them get closer and become friends, she knew eventually they would have to break through each other’s walls, and wondered if either of them was ready for it.


	8. Maybe It’s a Cultural Thing

“So we make presents, and give them in exchange for other presents?” Jumba asked, trying to understand what exactly this “Christmas” thing Pleakley was describing was about.

“Yes! isn’t it wonderful?” His friend clapped, excited with the idea. “It’s one of the most beloved Earth festivities, characterized by presents, candy and clashing color palettes.”

“Seems absurd.” The scientist shrugged, prompting an angry look from the Plorgonarian. Presents in exchange for presents? It was stupid and pointless, he thought while getting comfortable on the living room’s couch.

“Not everything about it is good,” Lilo interrupted, walking by from the kitchen, from where she had taken a chocolate chip cookie. “There’s this creepy Santa Claus guy that breaks into houses and eats your cookies, and he has a list where he puts people so they don’t get presents, and goes around flying with a weird magical sleigh. He even has, like, thousands of elf slaves!” she concluded, leaving the room.

“Am liking this Santa Claus person,” Jumba said with sparkling eyes, taking back his skepticism of the holiday. Maybe this Christmas custom could be fun after all.

Pleakley kept himself busy over the next few days trying to recreate every Christmas tradition in the book, some of which he had terribly misunderstood, as closely as he could. He wanted to learn how to sing Christmas carols, have a Christmas tree, cook a traditional Christmas dinner, wrap the house in Christmas lights… everything he could find. Nani got tired of him constantly chasing her, asking if he could get this or that and having a little meltdown every time the answer was no. So, in order to save herself the headache, she gave him a credit card that was, in her words, “absolutely just for emergencies,” and suggested he use some of the credits the Galactic Federation sent monthly due their status as a protected family.

However, there were two things Nani didn’t know. The first one was that the little sum they got from the Federation (just enough to cover the increased food and power consumption cost for the family) could have been bigger if Jumba weren’t hoarding part of it for his own shady purchases: a fact not even his roommate was aware of. The second one was that, in Plorgonar, there was nothing remotely similar to a credit system, and thus Pleakley was completely oblivious of how such an arrangement worked.

His species always had a very loose sense of property: for the most part, if you could reach it, you could use it. If one wished to keep a Plorgonarian away from a specific item, they had to explicitly voice it to them, otherwise they would assume everything on common property is fair game. That even extended to shops, where borrowing and item and returning items later was a common practice and not considered stealing. Plorgonarians did use money to acquire things they wanted to keep permanently, but whatever you had in hand was what you got; there was no “invisible money” in bank accounts, no loans and no concept of dept.

If Nani had known any of that, she could understand better why Pleakley seemed to lack personal boundaries so much, but most importantly, she never, ever, EVER would had given him a credit card.

After the alien had discovered he could get things using the card (and mistakenly thought that made them free), he headed to the mall with the intent to select the best decoration for the sapling-offering ritual, or, as humans called it, a “Christmas tree.” He was so excited; lights and orbs of more colors than he had ever seen filled the place, and, combined with the jolly music sounding from above, they almost made the area look magical. He wished Jumba was more open to leaving their property, but since the completion of the house, only excluding the one time Nani forced him to get some clothes, the Kweltikwanian had only set foot outside to go to the spaceship. Well, his loss: Pleakley would enjoy the fascinating ceremony of plastic ornaments alone.

The slim alien wandered around the store for hours, fascinated with every little detail, and ended getting two bags full of the most extravagant items he could find on the shelves. When the time to return home came, he was pretty tired and decided to try using the Earth public transportation (or “bus”) like Lilo had taught him to do some weeks ago. She had even given him a bus ticket, which he was playing with between his long fingers while walking toward the nearest stop. After fixing his dress, Pleakley sat down next to an old lady, who smiled at him politely.

“That’s such a nice outfit,” the lady pointed out in the sweetest voice.

“Well, thanks! My…” He stopped for a second, thinking on what word should he use there. “...roommate said it’s too gaudy, but I think it’s lovely!” the alien said proudly. He was wearing a long purple dress with short frilly sleeves and a reddish flower motive. It matched well enough with the curly orange hairstyle of his wig, to which he had also added golden hoop earrings “borrowed” from Nani.

“Oh, a roommate! I used to live with a few friends when I was young. We had so much fun…” the lady continued with a nostalgic tone in her voice “What is he like?”

“Oh, he’s one of those men obsessed with his work, you know the type.” The old lady giggled at the remark, nodding. Pleakley was very expressive, both in his voice and with his gestures, and she liked that. “He thinks he’s oh-so-smart because of it, but he’s a mess, really. I don’t think he has ever washed a single dish!”

“That’s unfortunate,” the woman commented. “Maybe it’s a cultural thing. Where does he come from?”

“He…” Pleakley had started with confidence, but it died slowly as he realized he didn’t know. He guessed Kweltikwan, but wasn’t entirely sure. Jumba had been arrested on Turo. “...is from Europe,” he lied, just so the sentence was somehow completed.

“That’s so far away! He must miss his family a lot,” the old lady added.

“Well…” Again, the alien didn’t know. Did Jumba even have a family? He started to feel anxious, losing some of the peculiar attitude he usually adopted as a disguise.

“Sounds like a nice person,” the lady said with a smile after noticing how nervous the other was getting. She wasn’t there to force anyone to speak.

“Oh, yes, yes, he’s smart and he…” Pleakley tripped on his words again. What more did he know? Of course, mentioning Jumba was a criminal alien, was not an option, so he had to think of something. “...he likes science and, and…” he stuttered, trying to think of more. But nothing came to mind.

Jumba Jookiba was a Kweltikwanian who was arrested on Turo for creating illegal genetic experiments. He called himself an “evil genius,” but Pleakley didn’t quite think that described him well. He liked science, yes, but what kind? Science was one of the most extended fields of knowledge of the galaxy, and there were thousands of branches to be interested in. Some kind of biology seemed to be the answer if one could guess from 626, but that was only a single experiment, and Pleakley had no idea what other things Jumba had done before or after that, despite seeing him work in all kind of things around the house. Didn’t he had some kind of prestigious position before his arrest? Pleakley could’t recall. He couldn't recall if Jumba had ever mentioned anything or anyone except his mother, either. No places, or hobbies, or friends, or studies, or absolutely nothing Pleakley could use to describe him. Jumba Jookiba was a genius and a Kweltikwanian. He didn’t like to clean and he enjoyed science stuff. That was it. That was literally all Pleakley could think of, and they shared a bunk bed!

The old lady looked at him in silence, with a sweet but sad smile that made Pleakley uncomfortable. He gave up and started fidgeting without another word, wondering if what he had seen in the woman’s eyes was, indeed, pity.

He didn’t have the courage to look at her again once his bus arrived to take him home.


	9. This Exile Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: REFERENCED SUICIDE
> 
> This is the longest and, hopefully, the most emotional chapter so far. Please enjoy and don't hesitate to leave your criticism if you have any!

“I brought doughnuts!” Pleakley exclaimed with his usual enthusiasm as entered the spaceship lab. “There’s even a pink one. Classy!”

“Thanks,” Jumba replied without raising his head from his work. He was holding a monocular magnifying glass in front of one of his bigger eyes with a frown, the other three eyes tightly shut. With some small forceps, the scientist was manipulating the wires inside a weird toaster-like machine, all kinds of tools and pieces scattered on both the table and the floor around him. He had been confined on the laboratory for the last two days, and though Pleakley had no luck trying to force him to sleep, at least he made sure he was eating something.

“You should go outside and get a little sunlight, you know. You’re going to get blind doing that all day,” the Plorgonarian scolded him, only getting a grumble in response.

Pleakley sighed. Perhaps he should try something new this time. And there was something particular bothering him since the day before, when he realized how little he actually knew about his roommate. The previous night, he couldn’t stop wondering again what kind of past Jumba had. What home, what family, what friends. What life. Inside his head, the same words repeated over and over again:

“What must it be like to have nothing, not even memories to visit in the middle of the night?”

Pleakley didn’t want to avoid the questions he had anymore. After all, they were friends, right? At least at that point, he considered Jumba his friend. They lived together, had fun together, liked each other… they did like each other, didn’t they? The truth was almost all their communication consisted of arguing, and their personalities were so different that sometimes, Pleakley felt killing the genius was the only thing he wanted. He had to nag the big alien to do even the smallest of chores and had a double heart attack every time he heard his maniacal laughter, which always meant something evil had crossed the Kweltikwanian’s mind.

But his presence was also very comforting to Pleakley. Not matter what crazy or dangerous situation they stumbled upon, there was nothing that took Jumba out of his cool. He was a problem-solver, and while the green alien got engulfed by anxiety easily at the first issue, Jumba was invariably there, quickly finding a solution and fixing everything. And while the Plorgonarian doubted every one of his steps, there was nothing the scientist’s confidence couldn’t overcome; he trusted his own abilities to be able to solve anything. Jumba’s resolution and passion were so intoxicating that his roommate had even gained some for himself and was not that prone to lose his nerves anymore (except when a new stressful situation ensued and he fell back into his old habits, but it was an improvement nonetheless).

Trying to repay him for it, Pleakley cleaned after Jumba, grabbed him snacks, took care that he didn’t overwork himself, and tried to be there for him, even if it seemed like the purple alien never needed help with anything. They had a delicate balance, and Pleakley wasn’t so sure if they were friends as he had wanted to believe. He had never said so, and although Jumba used the word from time to time, he had already done so mere seconds after meeting him, so it was clear he didn’t consider it a real label of the situation.

Pleakley sat down at the other side of the table, nervously fidgeting. Jumba didn’t move or talk. He wasn’t eating either, but he would take care of that later. The green alien gulped; why was always so hard to talk about these things? In the back of his mind, he was scared he could ruin their balance, that Jumba was not actually his friend and they were only being considerate to one another because they had to. And that would shatter him inside, because, as nice as the Pelekais were, Jumba was truly the only person he could relate on the entire planet. He talked quickly, before his anxiety could prevent him from doing so.

“So, what were your parents like?” he said, as friendly as possible.

It took Jumba a few seconds to answer, but for the Plorgonarian, it felt like an eternity. The scientist was very focused on the little piece of machinery and didn’t bother to say anything until he had finished using the forceps. Without even raising his head and with an indifferent, almost bored tone, he finally replied.

“Don’t know.”

“What does that mean?” his roommate asked, slightly annoyed. Was he playing with him again, faking innocence?

“Evil genius was left on orphanage door back in Kweltikwan,” Jumba explained, still working, same indifference in his voice. “Do not know parents.”

“WHAT?” Pleakley yelled, almost making the forceps fall from Jumba’s hand. He received a death glare from the four eyes, strong enough to make him lower his voice again; “You’re an orphan?”

“Yes,” the other simply replied.

“So…” the small alien was still processing the information, so he asked the first question that came to his mind. “What were your guardians like?”

“Don’t know.”

That was it. Jumba was playing with him. Pleakley crossed his arms, now looking upset. He couldn’t believe…!

“Little one thinks I’m saying this to annoy him,” Jumba interrupted, calmly, eyes still on his work. “But is true. Don’t know. Back then, huge poverty fell in area. People were dying on streets. So they left offspring behind.” He used the monocular glass to make sure he was correctly disassembling the small pieces. “Were just too many of us. Orphanage only had three workers and we were nearly forty kids. Couldn’t raise us all; only saw them for punishment. Jumba doesn’t remember them."

“Oh, Jumba…” Pleakley gasped, his expression going soft. “I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

“Do not be apologizing; I don’t care. Evil child prodigy did great things thanks to no guardians to stop him.” He finally raised his head, smiling proudly.

“And you have no family at all?” the Plorgonarian looked about to cry, which contrasted heavily with the casual tone of his partner.

“I married.”

“WH…?” a second death glare stopped him from screaming, laying both hands over his mouth. “Why didn’t you tell us any of THIS?”

“No one asked.” Jumba shrugged like it was not a big deal. But Pleakley knew that was a lie. Okay, he had not asked and that was possibly his own mistake, but he knew for a fact Lilo had, and more than once. Jumba had always avoided the question, and this was the first time he actually had opened a bit about himself. Did that mean they really were friends?

“And do you miss your wife?” Pleakley went on with a hopeful tone.

“Oh, _Huaa allah_ , no!” the scientist corrected, almost laughing, to Pleakley’s dismay. “Ex-wife now. Worst mistake of Jumba’s life! Would rather be in jail eternally before dealing with her again.”

“Well, that’s… a really strong feeling,” Pleakley commented. Suddenly, he recalled something; “Hold on, hold on! But when we were capturing Stitch before all this, you told him not to talk bad about your mother! I remember that!”

“Have to come from somewhere,” the Kweltikwanian replied, brushing his three hairs with his hand. “And she may have had good reasons to leave Jumba. Is not fair to insult her like 626 did.”

This made Pleakley feel even worse. He was still putting all the pieces together, hoping that they formed a happier picture “So, no family…?”

“I have no family,” the purple alien replied, getting back to his work. The way he sounded so detached from how terrible that was made Pleakley’s chest hurt.

“And no acquaintances?”

“Nope.”

“And no friends?”

“Jumba have no friends,” he added in a more aggressive tone. Pleakley had no way of knowing Jumba’s past friendship with Hämsterviel was the reason for it, and thought he was irritating his roommate.

“So you’re…?” he tried to say, not quite brave enough to end the sentence. The bigger alien did it for him.

“Alone, yes.”

His tone of voice wasn’t as sad as much as simply informative, but it still crushed Pleakley’s soul. Jumba had memories to visit in the middle of the night, but not much more. He had no home, no family, no friends, and no job, and was banned forever from the only place he seemed to care about in the whole galaxy. Even the memories he had weren’t exactly what anybody would want to visit: an unattended childhood in a poor orphanage, a failed marriage with a person he ended up hating, a career that got him on a criminal path and nearly arrested for life. And now, being an exile on a planet he had absolutely no interest in.

It was hard for a Plorgonarian to even grasp being that alone. Their species always had several children at the same time, so they grew up surrounded by siblings. Family was the most sacred structure and you ought to be there for them, especially your parents; members of the same family never moved too far away, and one got used to huge gatherings at every turn, sometimes of nearly half a hundred relatives. A good share of their culture consisted of keeping up appearances and working on how others perceived you; their civilization was carefully constructed around their relationship with others. That was why becoming an outcast was the worst possible sentence in Plorgonar, to the point most of them ended up taking their own life: Plorgonarians can’t stand being alone. It drives them mad.

And that was why Pleakley was on the verge of tears, despite Jumba not looking affected by the notion at all. It even took him a minute to notice his green partner had stopped talking, as he was more interested in assembling correctly the colorful wires on the machine. The Kweltikwanian raised his head and looked at Pleakley; whose mouth hung open, showing his two purple tongues. His big eye was watery and fixed on some ambiguous point and his face was unreadable to Jumba, who couldn’t quite comprehend what in the galaxy had happened for him to look like that.

“Pleakley?” he asked, bringing the Plorgonarian back.

“Oh, ha-ha, I don’t know what came over me,” he tried to dismiss, with a nervous laugh. “I must be getting tired.” Seeing Jumba’s four inquisitive eyes fixed on him was making him grow anxious. He couldn’t just… start crying for Jumba; it would have made both of them uncomfortable. He could leave with some silly excuse and pretend the conversation never happened, but was that what he wanted? To return to the starting point, showing his friend he would bail as soon as he opened up a bit?

He knew what the only path was.

“Jumba, look.” He dried his face quickly with his arm in order to remove any tears. This was not the time to cry. “The night we fought, when I said… what I said…”

“Already told you it was fine,” Jumba interrupted abruptly, looking a little awkward.

“No, it’s not fine. Because I never said ‘sorry.’ And I am, I really am sorry,” Pleakley continued, trying to sound more honest than he usually did. “This exile thing, I know it’s not ideal and I’m not trying to say it should be, but… I like it, in a way.” His tone got warmer. “With you, I mean. You’re a good friend. And I hope I’m your friend, too.”

All four eyes widened so much that they looked about ready to pop out. The big alien started rubbing the back of his neck, now the nervous one.

“You know, am not good with touchy-feely stuff… I…” He tried to come with the words. But Pleakley smiled and got up from the chair.

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” he stated, slowly returning to his usual behavior. “Now if you excuse me, I have a full meltdown to have in the bathroom.”

That made Jumba chuckle.

“Please eat something! I will nag at you all night if the doughnuts are still here when I return. Goodnight!” the slim alien quickly stated as he left the room, now his usual happier self. He knew his roommate: he was emotionally distant and got uncomfortable with anything regarding feelings. He would be thankful to be left alone for now.

“Goodnight, my little friend,” Jumba replied. And this time, Pleakley was certain his words were completely genuine.

He was so happy to confirm they were friends, to know that Jumba trusted him, that Jumba liked him; he felt like floating around. If he hadn’t been so distracted thinking about it, Pleakley would have noticed the little tingle in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Huaa allah: Lord


	10. My Little One-Eyed One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA; BULLYING; REFERENCED SUICIDE; DETAILED ANXIETY AND PANIC ATTACK
> 
> This chapter takes place during "Stitch! The Movie". This fic will also feature "Lilo & Stitch 2: Stitch have a Glitch" but it will be later on the story since it just doesn't make sense for it to be before this one. Anyway, enjoy the chapter and a look on Pleakley's past.

“Oh, gosh. Oh, my. Breathing first, talking second!” Pleakley gasped dramatically for air, as he barely had any while locked inside the footlocker Stitch just released him from. “I’m ready now!” he exclaimed, feeling better, just before remembering WHY he had been in in the footlocker.

“Jumba! Gantu kidnapped Jumba!”

The Plorgonarian was drowning in anxiety. How had that happened? He was there, cooking his first official dinner on Earth without Nani's supervision and then… Gantu was in the house, and Jumba was acting strange, and there was that ball? Whatever that was, it was important. The scientist had wanted him to take it, but Pleakley knew it had to be something bad, probably evil or dangerous. In other circumstances, that would have been enough for Jumba to drop out and sort the situation by himself, but this time, he didn’t back off; he looked his friend in the eye with the most somber expression he could give and Pleakley could see the desperation on his face.

“You must,” he begged. “Please.”

Well, he couldn’t say no to that, couldn’t he? Jumba really did sound like it had to be done. So Pleakley just nodded and let himself to be guided by his roommate inside a small footlocker in the room, hugging the mysterious ball between his arms. He was panicking hard. What was happening? Wasn’t Gantu there for Stitch? What was that thing? Why was Jumba so scared? Everything was going to be fine, right? Right? Right?

“You are not to be making peep, my little one-eyed one, or entire galaxy is doomed.”

And that was it. Jumba was not there anymore. He could be in danger, he could be… no, Pleakley couldn’t bring himself to think of that. And he shouldn’t have; Stitch and Lilo were there, their little faces also worried and scared, and they needed an adult to be around and tell them everything was going to be okay. It was his _ohana_ , it was his responsibility to keep them safe now and offer some peace of mind, keep his damn nerves in check for once. They needed him; Lilo was just a small human child and Stitch had been trying so hard to find his place on Earth for months. So Pleakley took a deep breath and coped in the way he knew best: denial. Everything was going to be fine! They just needed to figure out what that weird alien container was, find Jumba, and rescue him. They could do it, they had saved Lilo before; they had Stitch, and everything would go just fine. And Jumba was not in danger, no! He was very durable; Pleakley had seen Stitch hit him with a car (twice!) and he was still walking. He was fine! They just had to locate him because Pleakley’s stupid ass had let him get kidnapped. No, no, Jumba was fine! The rescue would go exactly fine! Everything was – just - fine!

After securing the other 625 experimental pods so the two little ones didn’t get hurt, Pleakley wondered what to do next. They couldn’t just travel around space, hoping to stumble upon Jumba; there were hundreds of thousands of planets out there. But watching Nani call the FBI for Cobra gave him an idea: he owned an Intergalactic Periwinkle Pages that he had stored on the ship back on the day of his mission in case it could be helpful, and that was essentially a phone guide with thousands of contact numbers. Well, that was the answer. He would call every. Single. One. Of. Them. Until he found where Jumba was, no matter how many hours that took him. He had to. Jumba was his best friend.

That was the only thought that kept him going, hour after hour, number after number, getting insults and threats on nearly every call. He reached ten, fifty, one hundred, two hundred and fifty contacts. He kept calling in the dark after a power outage left them without light, after David left because it was way past midnight while he had been trying to convince Nani that Lilo was just misbehaving and not in danger when she found the pair had escaped from their room again. When Pleakley reached the letter “D” in the guide, he had already lost count of how many voices he had heard. He was so, so tired… his body was giving up, it had been a long day already and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stay awake all night, too. One last number, he decided, just one before resting up a little. His sleepy voice repeated the same words he had been saying over and over again for hours.

“Is Jumba there?”

“This is him speaking.”

He was so exhausted that he hadn't noticed that was his friend’s voice. Jumba was alive! And he sounded well! All the energy was suddenly back into Pleakley’s slim body. There was no longer anxiety or fatigue crushing him: only the joy of finally finding his roomate. He even laughed at his silly mistake regarding the “Detention Cell Phone” name; it was such a small thing compared to the relief that filled his two hearts at that moment. And look, Jumba was telling one of his bad, wonderful jokes! Pleakley was just so, so, so happy.

Until a different voice took the call.

The kidnapper was very clear: either he got the other 624 experiments as a ransom (weren’t they 625? Pleakley couldn’t care less) or they would never see Jumba alive again. They had to wait for a call that would tell them where the exchange was going to be.

Pleakley’s entire calm charade shattered to pieces and he found himself sobbing on the floor, yelling to the air: what were they going to do now? How could he just sit there and wait, knowing that Jumba was in mortal danger? But there was nothing else they could do. Nothing. His friend was in danger and he could do nothing.

Plorgonarians can’t stand being alone, and Pleakley felt lonelier than ever. When he had needed to talk in the past, he’d always had someone here or there to at least engage in some light interaction. But Nani and Cobra were avoiding his attempts, Lilo was just too young, and he could not call anybody in his family, as they wouldn’t understand why was he so worried for a Kweltiwanian criminal. Stitch was probably the only one who he could have shared the feeling with, but he was gone again and no one knew where.

It really hit Pleakley how much he missed Jumba: how lonely he felt without him. The hours waiting for the dreaded call were the most anxious, barren, desolate time of Pleakley’s life. And it was an achievement because, truth be told, it was a feeling that had followed Pleakley everywhere since the day he had started noticing he didn’t quite belong.

It was not that he didn’t love his family, he adored them! His mother was elegant and proud and always had the right answer, and his father, well, he really was the man society expected him to be: responsible, hardworking, strong, a true citizen that made his family proud. Pleakley was never sure if his parents were in love (their marriage had been arranged and they were both very private people who avoided even standing too close to one another), but they respected each other immensely and had raised their children on the highest standards there were. Pixley was their little princess, Bertley their happy angel, and Pleakley… Wendy Pleakley was supposed to be their heir, the exemplary boy who would grow up to be a brave warrior and succeed his father. But he never was, not even as a toddler. He was needy, weak, and scared of everything. Such a disappointment he must had been, as always.

It didn’t get better. Little Wendy was not only far behind his siblings, but started to show interest in some of Pixley’s stuff a little too much. He wanted to play with her toys, wear her clothes, and have the frilly things that covered her room. Of course, that was not acceptable; he was a boy and their parents made sure he would act like one. Wendy didn’t understand why he was yelled at so much at first, but it made him nervous to display attraction to anything unless it was first presented as an acceptable reaction to him. He started hiding his feelings, becoming extremely self-conscious and losing the little confidence he’d had to begin with.

The siblings were just hitting puberty when his dad died, leaving his poor mother distressed and alone, and although Pleakley was the least close to him (since they didn’t have anything in common), it was a terrible hit for the family; without his father’s help, his mother was overworked and had no time to help any of her children to deal with their teenage years. Pixley, who had always been a little bratty and jealous of her brother (since he was the elder and the expected successor of his father), went on a full disdain crusade against him to prove she was better, leaving Wendy behind. And poor Bertley, who had been a ray of sunshine and happiness that idealized his father, couldn’t cope with his loss and distanced himself from everyone, never to be the same again. They were all fine on the outside (because none of them was allowed to show they were not), but the inside was broken forever.

Wendy decided he could never bring justice to his name and requested to be called “Pleakley” instead. Without his family to turn to, he tried to seek comfort in other students, but as he was unable to completely hide his oddities, he only received mocking looks and cruel comments from them. And when he also started feeling attracted to other boys, it was just too much. He had considered ending everything, several times. But that would have crushed his mother, and Pleakley loved her too much. Instead, Pleakley focused on his studies and detached himself from the pain until it was all buried under a big pile of theatrical gestures and phony laughs. Sometimes, he felt so alone he wanted to cry, but at least he’d always had the option to shoo the feeling away by talking with others about some other topic.

Not this time. This time, he had no other option but listen to his own head for once, and it was the worst feeling Pleakley had ever felt. Like a black hole eating him alive from his chest, like a blank sound engulfing his head, like his whole body was about to collapse onto the floor and shatter like glass. All his shadows came to haunt him at once: the disappointed voices of his parents, the cruel eyes of his peers, the disdain of his siblings, his anxiety, his tastes, his lost career, the attraction he shouldn’t feel, his home, his life, his feelings, his flaws. He began to sway back and forth, feeling so dizzy that he wasn’t sure if he was going to pass out right there. The ringing of the phone took him out of his trance and Pleakley jumped to get it, thanking every god in existence for giving him an excuse to stop thinking.

“It’s the call! The call! I’ll get it! I’ll get it!”

It went pretty badly (the Wonder Girdle Company couldn’t have called at a worse time), but it was enough for him to recover and act like his usual self again. The one that didn’t think too much about his feelings, the one that was calm and collected enough to rescue Jumba. Yes, that was the Pleakley that the _ohana_ needed right now.

After the kidnapper revealed the ransom exchange location, Pleakley and Cobra took the experiments’ container and quickly headed to the lighthouse, where the nightmare would be finally over. Of course, surrendering 624 little monsters to the enemy wasn’t ideal, and the kidnapper sounded exactly like the kind of person you wouldn’t want to give power to, but what other options did they have? Jumba was in danger, and his safety was all that mattered then. If they had to give the experiments away, whatever; Pleakley gladly would have offered his own life in order to save his friend. The worst scenarios he could think of were rushing through his mind, where the scientist could have been tortured, scarred, injured, or worse: dead.

To take his mind off that, he focused on the lighthouse. And when that stopped working, he unsuccessfully tried to prompt Cobra to talk. He needed something to keep himself together, just a little longer, just until he could see Jumba. Fortunately, the villain’s ship came just in time to make him regain all the strength he needed. The rodent doctor happened to be tiny, but still, Pleakley would have not dared to talk if his impatience wasn’t too strong to ignore.

“Do you have Jumba? That’s my question to you, sir.”

“Bring out the four-eyed fathead!” the gerbil screamed, and Pleakley’s hearts stopped at once when a familiar silhouette appeared at the door of the ship.

It was Jumba. He was there. He was alive. He seemed to be fine. And Pleakley was so overjoyed that, for a moment, Jumba was the only thing in existence.


	11. Our Little Broken Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA; DETAILED ANXIETY
> 
> First part still takes place during "Stitch! The Movie", and later goes to a events present on "Lilo and Stitch: The Series". Some of the episodes had been rearranged because of plot holes and continuity problems. 
> 
> Episodes featured: Richter, Phantasmo, Clip, Mr. Stenchy

“Jumba! You’re okay!”

Pleakley didn’t realize it then, but it was at that exact moment that something changed inside him.

Seeing his friend alive and well filled him with a feeling he couldn’t quite explain. Something warm and wonderful that made the shadows in his mind disappear and made the empty hole in his chest become instead the source of the most beautiful light. It meant so much to him and he couldn’t do anything but let the relief take over. Jumba was okay. Pleakley had not lost him. It felt simply marvelous and nothing in the world was more important.

Sadly, it only lasted a minute.

It turned out one of the experiments was missing. Exactly how it went missing was the least of Pleakley’s concerns, because since they were not technically complying with their part of the deal anymore, Hämsterviel had decided he wasn’t going to comply with his either. Which meant he was going to kill Jumba right there, and, of course, that scared Pleakley to death. Not again. He couldn’t go through that again. If they actually took his roommate’s life, he was just going to lose his mind completely. Everything was happening so fast and he was shouting and didn’t even know what was happening and they were going to shoot and everything was blurry and circling around him. It felt so overwhelming, he didn’t even know if he had imagined the voice that suddenly rose above them all, freezing everyone in place.

“WAIT!”

It was Lilo. She had the missing experiment. Pleakley sighed, relieved; now they could give Hämsterviel what he wanted and Jumba would finally be safe. However, it seemed Lilo wanted to “save” the new experiment! She refused to surrender it, even when Cobra tried to rationalize with her, and the small gerbil was losing his patience fast.

“Do you want your Jumba or not?” he asked, and Pleakley wanted to scream. What was Lilo doing? Didn’t she want to save Jumba? They couldn’t leave him, they couldn’t! He was part of their _ohana_ , he was his friend; he was the most intelligent, charismatic, interesting person Pleakley had ever met, and they couldn’t keep going on without him. He couldn’t.

He looked at Lilo, mentally begging her to do the right thing, his eye filling up with tears. It was not that he wanted the little yellow guy to suffer or anything, it was just that he needed Jumba back.

 _Please…_ was the only thing on his mind, the rest of his body only focused on not breaking down right there. _Please, Lilo. We need him. We need him. Save him. Please, please, please…_

What came next was not what Pleakley expected, but it went surprisingly well. Lilo freed the other experiment, and, efficient as usual, Stitch retrieved his creator with ease. The part where the ex-agent tried to protect the rest, suggesting hiding behind Cobra’s car didn’t go well, but in the end, no one got hurt. Sparky came back, stopping the Federation from shooting his (what were they calling them now?) “cousins,” and Hämsterviel ran away. They were safe. They were all right. They were together. Everything did go well!

“Thank goodness our little broken family is back together,” Pleakley exhaled, profoundly happy as one could get. He couldn’t believe things were going that well.

“I have family?” Jumba exclaimed, just realizing what was happening. Of course he had; for the others, it was just obvious. He was part of their family. “Oooh! I have family!”

He sounded genuinely pleased with the idea, and, before Pleakley could gather his thoughts, he found himself between the huge arms of his friend, who hugged him tightly in a very unusual and affectionate way.

The green alien took a second to react, but, upon him realizing the tender gesture he was part of, a silly smile appeared on his face. Yes, they were friends. They were family. They were there for each other. Pleakley wanted to hug Jumba and never let him go away again, but Stitch and Lilo were chasing Hämsterviel to save the rest of the experiments and their safety was also important.

Fortunately, they didn’t need to worry for long. Not only did Stitch and Lilo return well, but the Council was really understanding of the situation. It was nice that they were, because on the bad side, there were more than 600 experimental pods raining over Kauai, each one of them with a dangerous creature inside designed only to wreak havoc around it. But the little duo said they could catch them, and Lilo was a very persistent girl. It would take a while, though, and since everything was going so smoothly and the Grand Councilwoman was there, maybe Jumba and Pleakley could talk about the basis of their exile and…

Never mind; the ship launched without them again.

Pleakley got irritated. It was a very harsh treatment, considering they had both been behaving and only tried to help. Sure, they would be useful capturing the experiments (especially Jumba; he was their creator, after all), but at least the Council could have asked them first! In his frustration, Pleakley even felt resentful towards his wigs, which were usually his favorite part of the female human disguise, the only way he could achieve some social interaction outside the house. And though they were beautiful (and he did feel beautiful on them), no one likes to be forced to hide all the time. It was just so unfair; he had devoted his life to the Federation, he’d had a respected career; they couldn’t just…!

“Aha! Doesn’t look like it.” Jumba laughed instead, making him lose track of his thoughts. “When are we going home? Evil genius is starving!” Well, he was clearly fine with it.

And if Jumba was fine with it, Pleakley guessed he was too.

The next few weeks, the Plorgonarian focused all his attention on trying to get closer to the distant scientist. Maybe his friend didn’t look at all affected by being almost murdered by a former acquaintance, but it had scared Pleakley to death and he was not going to just go about his day like it was nothing.

And he was sure a tiny part of Jumba, beneath all that indifference and humor, was also a little scared to die alone now that he knew he had a family that would grieve for him dearly if something happened. Pleakley guessed that much because the first night after the rescue, he couldn’t stop himself from sharing some of his feelings with him.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again. I almost died of anxiety; I was so, so worried!” he confessed softly while lying on his bed, ready to take a dismissive or a mocking answer.

But Jumba only whispered a quiet “Thanks” and both shared a moment of silent that felt oddly comfortable.

He was also more willing to open up about himself, though just about the facts and not much about how he felt about any of them. Little by little, Pleakley put together the pieces of information on his friend’s life: Jumba was indeed born in Kweltikwan, in one of the few big cities, known as _Jua’aquad_ (which was literally just “city” in the planet’s language. It turned out not only Jumba was bad at names). He an was orphan and grew up mostly by himself because the workers were busy with other kids and he always had been the loner type anyway. He was already a child prodigy, and after the government took notice of his potential, they promised him they would pay for a college scholarship as long as he got his grades up.

So he went and graduated from Evil Genius University (which, despite the weird name, was actually a highly prestigious biotechnology and engineering campus), and that was where he met Dr. Jacques Von Hämsterviel. Jumba refused to talk much about him or how their relationship was, but at some point, they had a prank shop together, and with the money they saved, Jumba started creating experiments that were not quite legal. Soon after, the scientist met a girl who he fell in love with and eventually married, only for them to divorce not much more than a year afterward. Then, with only Hämsterviel at his side and banned from his home planet because of his experiment, Jumba moved to a neglected lab on Turo and made sure to keep hidden as they became more dangerous, shady, and unstable.

Jumba climbed through positions until becoming the Lead Scientist on the Galaxy Defense Industries, and his (more legal) work made him recognized as one of the major experts on metamorphosis in the galaxy, but he never stopped creating experiments on the side. That had been his position until (for some reason Jumba wouldn’t talk about) Hämsterviel had betrayed him and made the Galactic Federation raid his lab and arrest him, ending twenty-five years of partnership.

Pleakley also took interest in what he liked. Jumba’s passion had always been biological engineering (as one could suspect by his living experiments), but right then, he was more interested in mechanical and thermodynamic creations. He liked to watch T.V., but only if it were showing some kind of destruction, from action movies full of explosions to reality shows where everyone got hurt and ended up crying. He favored foods that didn’t require him to chew much, and had a soft spot for mashed potatoes. Jumba also didn’t like how hot Kauai could get, and found the icy temperatures of his home planet a lot more pleasant.

Shortly before finding the first missing experiment, 513 (nicknamed “Richter” by Lilo), Pleakley had even managed to convince him to leave the house and join him on his trips to town from time to time. They were short trips, and Jumba didn’t bother to show interest in anything, but hey! At least he got some sunlight. With the appearance of 177 (“Clip”), Pleakley also learned Jumba used to have long, silky black hair, but he was now more comfortable with his bald style. Pleakley was glad to hear that, because he thought he was more handsome that way (did he say “handsome”? Of course not! What he meant was that it suited him more). The Plorgonarian also got used to his friend’s teasing comments, which were sometimes fun, sometimes annoying, and sometimes a little hurtful; even if he knew his roommate was not trying to insult him, Jumba just had a hard time adapting to the idea of caring about others.

Pleakley didn’t take the comments about intelligence to heart(s) because the genius had the habit of insinuating everyone was dumber than him and technically, it was the truth (if only comparatively). The comments on his looks, however… Pleakley did feel a little bad about those. Jumba did create an insanely cute experiment, Mr. Stenchy, so they had a similar concept of what being cute was. So every time he called Pleakley “ugly,” the green alien felt a little punch inside of him, even if he knew it was not meant to be serious. At first, he didn’t understand why; others called him that, especially Stitch, who he did not have the best relationship with. But it was only Jumba that Pleakley wanted to think he was pretty. That he was worthy. That he was there, and would always be.

He knew what was happening when a familiar tingle in his stomach started appearing more and more every time he was close to his best friend. New feelings, feelings that felt so strong and so good that they were hard to take, grew in his chest and filled his head. But Pleakley had already passed through that and had tons of experience in how to ignore it, bury it at the bottom of himself, and never have to face the painful truth. Because the truth was that he was male, Jumba was male, and even if his family, his society and he himself could get over that somehow, it was never going to work. Because Jumba was a confident, magnetic, strong genius that had survived alone his all life, and Pleakley was just some sissy, weak failure who specialized in one of the least glamorous degrees out there.

It was pointless to even admit to himself that what he felt for his chaotic roommate was no longer called friendship.


	12. No One Ever Has to Know About This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: EXPLICIT MASTURBATION
> 
> Episodes featured: Spooky, Holio, Cannonball

“ _Dunga haga blabla_!” Stitch protested, running out of the bathroom. Pleakley had threatened to give him a bath if he didn’t leave him alone immediately.

Everyone on the house was already used to that: two nights a week, Pleakley claimed the bathroom for a full hour in order to have a “pampering care session,” as he called it. The most reluctance came from Nani, because there was only one bathroom, but she had finally allowed after making Pleakley promise he would only use his own beauty products.

That night, however, she was sleeping out at David’s place, so the only obstacle the green alien had to deal with was Stitch playing with the mirror. Lilo was in the living room watching some kind of horror movie special and, after declaring it was too soft for him, Jumba had retired to his and Pleakley’s room to watch the goriest film he could find on his computer. The muffled sound of the TV was the only thing that Pleakley could hear, and he felt really thankful they had used soundproof material on the walls when they had rebuilt the house. It was not strong enough to completely suppress the sound from one room to another, but at least one could have a private conversation. Or, in his case, a relaxing bath.

Pleakley left the towel that was covering his body on the floor and got himself into the warm water of the tub. The world around him seemed to disappear as the embrace of the crystalline fluid made the alien melt into a pleasant sensation of relaxation. It felt so good. The Plorgonarian couldn’t understand why the others didn’t like baths as much. Jumba even mocked him for constantly getting them, but if he just tried one, Pleakley was sure he would understand. Yeah, Jumba should try to take a bath here someday: just immerse himself in the balmy water and feel how wonderful it was. He should leave behind his ill-fitting clothes and use those strong arms of his to get in the tub. It would be nice… his naked body glowing and dripping in the mist of the room, his cute little ears twitching and red, his beautiful four eyes sparkling with pleasure as he used his big, virile hand to stroke…

WAIT. What was he thinking? Pleakley opened his eye, returning to the real world in shock, breathing heavily after the sudden wave of emotions. That was absolutely NOT a thing he should be imagining. At all. Jumba was his friend, and they couldn’t be anything more; he knew that! So why were these thoughts rushing to him now, while he was alone in the tub? He tried to think of anything else, anything, but his mind refused to leave the image, and it was becoming harder and harder to even try. His whole being was screaming for something that could placate the hot feeling that had invaded him, his breath becoming more and more heavier as the arousal took the best of him. The bottom of his body was so hot that one of his three legs was twitching uncontrollably from the desire. That vision of Jumba was so alluring...

Only once, he thought, unable to resist any longer. No one would know. It would be only one time. One time couldn’t hurt anyone…

He knew by his biology courses that male Kweltikwanians, like humans, had a sexual organ called a “penis”, which stood out from the pelvis and was used to penetrate females. Plorgonarians were not like that. Both sexes had two openings: a nearly identical one for waste and a unique one for procreation, which was bigger, leaning to the center of the bottom. There was no need for direct contact between mating partners because Plorgonarians reproduced on water, ejaculating their respective seeds in a pool designed for nursing the resulting eggs. They fertilized two to six roes at once, and from then on, the eggs grew in the water until birth, no womb required. A very convenient way to have children, and the main reason that, despite the rigid gender roles, both sexes had advanced at roughly the same pace in their society. Males, specifically, had a pretty long tube that climbed their insides to their inner testes, and since it needed stimulation from mere water to function, it was extremely sensitive. Fortunately for them, the entrance remains completely closed unless aroused, and needs to get wet first.

After getting caught in his fantasy, Pleakley’s genital had gone fully open, allowing the warm liquid inside. He softly moaned, relaxing his head over the tub’s edge, his opening feeling so good that he had to bite his lips in order to not raise his voice. Little bubbles were forming inside it, tickling the walls like tiny fingers caressing the area, and Pleakley had to force himself to breathe. It was so, so long since the last time… years already. He had fought tooth and nail to suppress his desire, to tell himself there was not anything there anymore, to not fall for the tempting call of his body when he was alone and the memory of past crushes returned to his mind. From time to time, he remembered the first boy he liked back as a teenager and his sweet aroma (Mr. Stenchy smelled the same!), but nothing more. This was different. Maybe because Jumba was just two doors from there, and the proximity was giving him even stronger feelings; maybe because it was so different, so mysterious. What would that penis thing feel like? Was that as wonderful to touch as Pleakley’s opening was to him? Would it feel good in water? Would Jumba feel good in water? Maybe together…?

He closed his eye, letting his imagination run wild as his long, flexible fingers started to gently toy with his genital surroundings. Water already felt good, but touching the area was even better. Pleakley started moaning again, his other hand over his chest, gently caressing his own skin. That felt, so, so, so good. He didn’t even notice he was drooling a little, letting the waves of pleasure invade his slim body until it was screaming for more. Unable to stop himself, Pleakley let his fingers enter the genital slowly, and the electricity that went through all his being the moment he touched the sensitive nerve endings inside drove him mad.

“Jumba...” he whispered between soft whines, feeling like he was going to explode. He imagined both of them in the tub, naked, kissing each other everywhere, their bare skin wet and rubbing, as Jumba used his huge hands (the same hands Pleakley had found so terrifying at first) to get him closer, hug him, cuddle him. And then he would lower them and, oh goodness, he would do the same thing Pleakley was doing to himself right now. The groans got louder, more than he intended, but he couldn’t think properly. There was only one thing, one person right now. And oh goodness, did that feel wonderful…!

It wasn’t until his semen was released on the water that he noticed he had been holding his breath. Pleakley sighed heavily as everything on his body slowly went back to normal; the room returned and it took him a second to remember where he was. The antenna on his head jiggled a few times before returning to his functions and capturing the distant sound of the living room TV. Everything was exactly like it was before Pleakley had lost himself in his fantasy, and he couldn’t honestly tell if it had been a minute or an hour since it started. The water was noticeably less warm, so he had been absent for a while, thinking of… oh no, what had he done? He thought he had gotten over that already! That he was able to control himself! That he had reached a point where he no longer needed to do that! Everything on Pleakley’s mind had just shut off and he had followed his most basic, primal desires.

That was bad in and of itself, but it wasn’t even the worst part. All of that desire and lust, after years of Pleakley successfully shunning the temptation away, had been unleashed by Jumba. Jumba, the last person Pleakley should ever try to consider anything but a friendship with. Hell, he was LUCKY he had even agreed to be his friend in the first place! Jumba was way out of his league, and that would be if he wanted to play in that league anyway, which was obviously not an option.

 _No one ever, ever, ever has to know about this_ , was the only thing on his mind while he was leaving the bathroom and sending Lilo and Stitch to sleep. _It’s nothing. It will go away. I just need to keep it to myself_. Fortunately, his friend was already sleeping by the time he returned to their room. Pleakley had never felt so relieved to hear his loud snorts echoing over the house.

Besides all the reasons Pleakley already knew why having a crush on Jumba was a bad idea, there was another crucial detail: the scientist was straight. He’d had a wife, and although there were a thousand reasons Jumba pointed to as to why the relationship didn’t work, not being attracted to females was not one. A tiny part of Pleakley hoped it was just that Jumba hadn’t thought of mentioning it, but his rational side was quick to shut it down; giving himself false hopes would only be worse for him.

Lying on the bed and just trying to delete the bath scene from his mind, he was happy to have anything else to think of. He had even seen Jumba’s wife! Well, not exactly; it was actually experiment 300 (a.k.a Spooky), who could transform into anyone’s worst fear. They had found him back on Halloween, a fun Earth festivity that allowed Pleakley to disguise himself in even more extravagant, beautiful costumes.

He had learned how to sew since he had heard of it almost a full year ago already, and was really proud of his abilities. Such a shame male Plorgonarians weren’t allowed to sew (it was, by all means, a female-reserved hobby, and he’d had enough problems already when his mother found he was taking an optional course of it at college), but his family didn’t have to know, and besides, his work was fantastic. At that point, he was also so used to Jumba walking around in just his underwear on the ship and sometimes even at home that he didn’t even blink twice when he had to create a costume for him, though now it made him feel terribly awkward that he had. Later that night, they had gone to an abandoned house, and oh, boy, was it scary; Spooky had turned into Pleakley’s mother and said to him exactly what terrified him the most.

He was a bad son. A failure, a disgrace, a complete disappointment. He could never fill his father’s shoes or make the family proud; he couldn’t even call home because he was hanging around with a freaking criminal! They should all forget about him and his pathetic life, how he dared to be such a hassle after she had given him the best years of her life…!

The nightmare ended when the experiment became Jumba’s ex-wife instead, and though she didn’t have time to say much, “When are you getting real job?” had to be something that really stung for the Kweltikwanian. After all, his job was the most important thing in his life; he loved creating and loved using all his capacities to achieve the impossible. Sure, would be nice if some of that energy would have been focused on something that wasn’t destroying planets or bringing anarchy to society, but there’s only so much you can ask of an evil genius. And Jumba wasn’t as evil as he said he was anyway: just chaotic and curious. He wanted to discover how many laws of nature could he overcome, and though that was pretty destructive in and of itself (and required a massive ego, but it’s not like Jumba lacked that), it had also made him a brilliant scientist and one the biggest creators in the galaxy.

His wife didn’t like that; she didn’t like that at all, Jumba explained to Pleakley after the holiday was over. They were young, they were really attracted to each other, they were both smart and confident, and they both thought they could make the other change. He had hoped she would grow to appreciate science with time and would support his projects; she expected him to stop doing experiments and find a stable, cozy job in order to have a quiet life. Jumba tried, but he was bored out of his mind, and, by the first year of marriage, there was no relationship to be saved.

Still, the green alien thought it was quite extreme that she was his worst fear. Sure, they didn’t part on good terms, but it was only one woman in the universe. But… Pleakley was deathly afraid of his mother and maybe Jumba thought THAT was silly. Maybe they should have talked more about their fears, about what made them so scary; but between them was still an invisible wall the Plorgonarian couldn’t pass through. Jumba had taken days just to admit he liked mashed potatoes, so it was only natural he wasn’t going to talk about his fears with Pleakley just yet.

But how much Pleakley wished he would; he could help a little! He would tell him that woman didn’t deserve the time of the day; how did she dare to nag him about a job? Obviously, she couldn’t understand the great work Jumba was already doing; she wasn’t appreciating the fact that she had married a genius! Not only a genius: a handsome, charming, witty, funny genius with a big heart, if only you cared to stop and appreciate him. She didn’t know how much she had missed, stupid woman, after being so lucky to have such a romantic partner. Talking down to him like that! If PLEAKLEY had been so fortunate as to be with Jumba, he would never have…!

The green alien gulped, returning to reality once more. Again? He had to control his damn thoughts. When had this all started, anyway? Earlier, in the tub, he had realized a lot, but it felt too late somehow. No, it was already settled by then, wasn’t it? He could no longer deny to himself that something was very, very different between him and Jumba now. And he honestly didn’t know what was he going to do with that information.

No, Pleakley didn’t know when, or how, things started to feel that confusing to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Dunga haga blabla!: I don't like water!


	13. An Unstoppable Force of Evil Science

Jumba was not like Pleakley. Jumba knew exactly when, and how, things had started to change.

The first time he had seen the agent was back in his cell in the Galactic Federation, where he had just been condemned for life on a high-security prison. He was furious because media was calling him an “idiot scientist” again. Those _trogs_ didn’t understand how exceptional 626 was! Jumba hadn’t just created life from nothing (an achievement he had reached 20 years ago already), but it was an unstoppable, exceptional, destructive force of evil science that not even an entire army could disarm. It was the most powerful creature ever made, and that bunch of _harash_ were calling HIM an idiot!

His anger wore off when the Grand Councilwoman in person showed up on his cell. That could only mean one thing: 626 had escaped, and, well, wasn’t that exactly what Jumba had made him for? He wasn’t surprised at all. However, the offer from the Council to exchange the experiment for his freedom caught him unawares. What a great deal! Of course, Jumba accepted the bargain, and it was only then that he noticed a big, terrified eye hiding behind the tall figure of the Councilwoman.

A Plorgonarian would supervise HIM? That would be amusing to witness.

He had fun scaring the little figure to death. Poor thing was shaken to the bone at first, and was unable to say a word, not even an hour later, when they were both travelling to Earth on Jumba’s previously confiscated ship. They sat in the control room after being instructed on how to proceed with the mission (which Jumba honestly didn’t care to listen to a word of), and after launching to their destination, they found themselves alone for the first time.

Agent Pleakley (that was how others addressed him) was so distraught and nervous that he looked about to have a neurotic meltdown at any moment. Enjoying being the root of such intense fear, Jumba made sure to exploit it; he laughed maniacally several times, talked about how destructive 626 was, and described in detail the many ways they could brutally die during the trip. The green alien seemed to become smaller and smaller with every word, his big eye fixed on the glass in front of him. That was entertaining for a while, but eventually, Jumba got bored of it.

That was when he noticed: Pleakley was kind of cute.

Not cute like 626 was; not like his ex-wife had been, either. Cute in a different way. Like a tiny glass bottle was cute, like something frail and delicate you should be very careful not to break. His big, expressive eye made Jumba feel something he hardly ever had: guilt. Pleakley was so cute and that made Jumba feel guilty that he was making him look so scared and vulnerable, as strange as all that sounded, even to himself. The scientist looked at his partner better; he was small, was slim, and had no less than three legs, two purple tongues and a jiggly antenna on his head. He looked like a cross between a noodle and a squeaky toy, and that made Jumba smile in a different way than his previous mocking grin.

“Not to worry,” he decided to say, looking for a way to look less menacing. He didn’t know why, but he really wanted to protect the little figure from harm. How weird. “626 only attacks intelligent life forms, so bossy noodle is safe.”

“Well, that’s a… HEY!” Pleakley yelled, offended. He seemed annoyed now, and Jumba liked that a lot more than the terrified look from before. Teasing would be a good way to make the little guy less scared of the situation.

They had no time to get all emotional, though (not that Jumba would want that anyway); 626 had to be captured immediately. The purple alien wasn’t entirely sure yet if he would comply with the deal and get his freedom or design a way to flee from justice using his creation instead, but he needed 626 either way. The small blue creature would soon prove that taming him into collaboration would not be an option, which left surrendering him to Intergalactic Justice as the only path. Jumba felt quite frustrated; it had taken him two decades to create his masterpiece! If only others could see how marvelous it was… then he wouldn’t be strangling a Plorgonarian with one hand while trying to hide from a creature with super hearing abilities.

That was the first time he had touched Pleakley, and he noticed how slimy and warm he was. Also incredibly stupid, but maybe he could have made that point without squeezing that much! Jumba quickly softened his grip, afraid for a moment he had actually harmed his delicate partner, but it was clear Pleakley was fine once Jumba released him. And 626 had located them now, so there was no point in hiding anyway. Jumba tried to shoot, only to be stopped by the agent, and started grumbling after realizing his creation was using a little human child as a shield. Okay, there was evil and there was low, and that was LOW!

Pleakley had insisted they had to blend in, and Jumba complied so the Council would be happy. And a little bit because the green alien had shown he would physically intervene to stop him from doing otherwise, and Jumba really didn’t want to hurt him. And hey! How many times could you steal whatever you wished from a store and just pretend it was for the greater good? The costume he made himself was ugly as sin, but whatever. He didn’t care about looks.

Interestingly, Pleakley did care. Instead of grabbing the first thing he found like the genius did, he took the time to find what he considered to be the prettiest clothes. And wigs, because for some odd reason he decided it would be a lot more convincing if he disguised himself as a human female. Whatever, as long as it didn’t intervene with the mission. But Jumba did wonder, looking at his partner being overjoyed to use makeup and style his hair, what kind of life the slim alien had had before. He didn’t know that much about Plorgonar, but its strict gender roles were one of those things anyone could guess from just meeting a couple of its people. Pleakley already acted quite weird for his species (would “sissy” be the word?), but dresses and makeup? Well, that WAS unusual. Jumba was only curious, though; he didn’t actually care what the other liked to wear, and didn’t understand why Pleakley was so adamant to point out it was strictly a way to disguise himself. The evil genius even managed to get a grip on one of his wigs once and tried it out. it was fun.

However, there two things were weirdly out of place. First and foremost, 626 was acting remarkably strange, and although that was very good for research purposes, it was also very bad for the mission. The experiment stuck to his human girl like glue, was partaking in behaviors Jumba had never programmed him to be interested in, and, so far, had evaded all his creator’s attempts to lure him away. The second thing Jumba noticed was that he was actually having fun. Quite a bit. And often, it was directly thanks to his emotional, eccentric partner. He liked him, even if he knew that was strictly a professional, short-term relationship. Something about Pleakley triggered Jumba’s protective instinct, probably because he was so small and weak that everything seemed to be able to kill him, and even when it was clear he was not as delicate as he looked (626 almost had bitten his head off, and he had survived quite a lot of Earth fauna already), the feeling wasn’t quite wearing off. But Jumba was not interested in it; getting closer was a thing he simply did not like. Teasing the agent and building a solid wall between them was far easier and practical.

And then the Council fired them.

Finally! Now it would be a lot easier. Just shoot up the place, take 626 and celebrate the victory. They had almost succeeded when he changed his mind ( _smitec_ , no one tells Jumba what to do!) and decided to save the little human girl. Which was quite exciting; this Earth planet was really a wild trip! They had to leave the ship in the ocean, but they could just take it later. At least, he had thought that at the time.

 _Blitznak_. The Federation was there and they were less than happy with Jumba and Pleakley. Jumba did feel bad about how everything had played out, if only a little. It was just that 626 looked so… happy? Jumba hadn’t programmed him to be happy. But neither had he done so to give himself a name, try to surf despite water being his only weakness, be polite or sensitive, or especially to love another being as he clearly did now. Jumba’s creation had evolved further, maybe even better, and it made him proud in a way he didn’t expect from something that didn’t imply destruction or chaos at all. It was a nice feeling to go to if the Federation decided to arrest him for life or outright kill him for the troubles he had caused.

They didn’t. They left, even on a good note toward the little human family 626 had adopted. Jumba knew what that meant: they had better got comfortable, because they were going to stay on that planet for a long, long time.

Perhaps now that things were not constantly rushing him to his doom, he would have time to analyze his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Trogs: Morons/Assholes  
> · Harash: Garbage  
> · Smitec: Damn  
> · Blitznak: Crap


	14. After All You Put Me Through

Jumba was utterly furious. As he raged from one end of the room to the other, his growls were so loud and deep that they could have been able to tame a tiger just with raw fear. For the fourth time, he walked to one of the metal walls and gave it another, strong punch. The crumpled material around him was an obvious sign of his anger, but he didn’t care.

 _Stupid little wimp, is what he is!_ he thought, his eyes filled with rage. Pleakley was over-dramatic, he knew that, but the way he had yelled at him? He had no right to! True, he had lived in a lab in the middle of nowhere; so what? It was his home. It was his life. Everything he had worked on for more than ten years was in that place, and it meant the whole galaxy to him. He was fine with being exiled, he really was; it was a benevolent fate compared to perpetual jail or a death sentence. That didn’t mean Jumba did not miss his precious laboratory like crazy. An idiotic green noodle had no right to tell him otherwise.

Jumba wasn’t easily moved by emotions, so the way he had exploded had been a surprise to himself. He guessed it was because Pleakley was the last person he had expected to be so cold and cruel towards him. The agent was clearly a people-pleaser and the voice of kindness between the two, so the way he had insulted Jumba… it had actually hurt, broken something inside him. After he had been so patient, so freaking careful with that irrelevant planet just to please the Plorgonarian! They were building a house for humans, _smitec huaa allah_! If that wasn’t a compromise, he didn’t know what was.

The anger took hours to completely disappear, but when Jumba woke up the next morning, drooling over a pile of papers on his lab table, he didn’t feel it any anymore. Instead, it was replaced with something worse: sadness.

Pleakley had called him a _kaphong_ : a monster. And he was probably right. Jumba liked to be called an “evil genius,” but at the core, he was not actually trying to hurt anyone in particular. It was just that chaos and destruction were super fun and rules were only good to break. At the end of the day, however, his inventions did hurt others: a ton of others.

One of the great perks of being the genius of his old partnership was that he could create whatever hideous monster or artifact he could imagine, and Hämsterviel would be the one to actually use it in order to get things done. Thanks to Jumba’s inventions, they were able to intimidate sellers, threaten companies, and get whatever money or material they needed by force. Jumba was responsible for bankruptcies, broken families, torn friendships, and even deaths. But his part was the clean one; he never actually had to deal with any of it, and although he was aware of what was happening, it never made him consider much. As long as he didn’t have to see them, victims were just numbers on a piece of paper.

Just a few days ago, he would probably have still been upset with the accusation; Jumba never considered himself to be a monster. But something very big had happened, something that had shaken his whole world entirely.

He had met a victim.

Nani had been a direct victim of his actions. She was asking, and screaming and crying. She had lost her little sister forever, and though he and Pleakley were not the ones directly taking her away, Jumba knew it was also his fault. He had put the girl in danger while attacking 626, and later let the giant shark captain of the Federation capture her, only interested in retrieving his experiment. And now that female human was crying and Jumba felt… bad. Really bad. This was not his usual clean position, away from the casualties. And no matter how much he called himself “evil,” he did not enjoy the casualties at all. That had always been Hämsterviel’s job. Jumba liked chaos and anarchy, but dealing with actual pain caused by his behavior was new and unpleasant.

“ _Hey! Jumbu-ki jabbi!_ ” 626 had then interrupted. Jumba nearly had a heart attack.

“WHAAAAT? After all you put me through, you expect me to help you just like that? JUST LIKE THAT?”

“ _Ih_.”

“Fine!”

Recalling that now, he guessed it had looked very odd from the outside. It was true that 626 was persuasive (he just had a very soft spot for his creation; who wouldn’t?), but it hadn’t been the only thing that had made him change his mind. Seeing a victim, someone actually suffering in front of him because of something he did, was another factor he had never had to deal with before. And of course, there was the fact that he was actually enjoying the trip a little too much, between the opportunity to directly research 626’s behavior and having a sort-of-friend to share the experience with. There was a good chance the Council was just going to shoot him by the end of the day, so what was better than a last big rescue mission? He would break the rules because that was what Doctor Jumba Jookiba did.

Except now, he wasn’t so sure. The only person on the planet he could share a little bit with had called him a monster, and he realized how true that was. It should have filled him with pride, but it didn’t. Trying to get his mind out of the dreaded feeling, he worked all day on some new construction tools without allowing himself a single break. Something easy and laborious that made his thoughts go away. It worked, for the most part, and before Jumba realized it, night was falling. Tired and sick of being confined in the same room for hours with trivial work, he decided to walk to his bedroom.

The stars were glowing, white and distant, and their pale light dusted over the room through the only small window. Jumba rested his hand on the cold glass and wondered if his lab was even out there anymore. Maybe the Galactic Federation had destroyed it already; maybe there was another scientist working on it while he watched the sky. It made Jumba feel empty. He had been lucky, though; just before Hämsterviel had betrayed him, he had been planning a trip to an evil conference, and had dehydrated all his illegal experiments and stored them on the ship. As they were hidden at the bottom of the engine’s machinery, the Federation had not found them, and they had not been confiscated like the rest of his belongings.

It wasn’t that he was planning on activating them (as tempting as the idea was), but knowing he still had his 626 little monsters at his side was something he could take solace in: a little piece of home he had taken with him. Jumba knew it wouldn’t be wise to try anything remotely evil for at least a few months; the exile meant the place would be heavily monitored for a while, and the Council wouldn’t hesitate to destroy the island if any threat appeared on it. Despite knowing he could use his creations to get away easily, Jumba would leave a destroyed land behind him, and that was if any land survived at all. Jumba didn’t want that.

He faintly chuckled inside. When he had become such a softie? Back on Turo, he wouldn’t have cared about what any place or anyone suffered as long as he got things his way. Look at him now, worrying about the fate of a tiny island in the middle of a planet he knew nothing about, caring for the safety of a bunch of humans and a one-eyed noodle. Rebuilding his house, not only because he was a problem-solver and just loved having the answer to everything, but because deep inside, he expected them to stop seeing him as the monster he was. What a bunch of corny bullshit.

The stars had made him nostalgic for a moment, but he was not going to throw himself a pity party. Turo was a galaxy away, Kweltikwan even more so. He was going to be there, on Earth, at least long enough to design a good escape route. So what? Better start working on it then. Jumba did not owe a single thing to anyone there; he was an evil genius who had evaded justice for more than twenty years! Silly mushy-gushy stuff wasn’t going to stop him from doing what he did best: overcoming the situation. And if Pleakley hated him, whatever! Plenty of people did. He didn’t even know why he had gotten so touchy in the first place.

Jumba Jookiba was not mediocre and would not settle for mediocrity. That house would be the best damn human base on the whole planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Smitec Huaa allah: Fucking Lord  
> · Kaphong: Monster  
> · Jumbu-ki jabbi!: Jumba have to help!  
> · Ih: Yes


	15. I Am Thinking Too Much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: REFERENCED SEX; SEXUAL TENSION

What a strange night.

Pleakley had been hard to understand already, but now he was all over the place. Jumba felt very disoriented by his sudden visit, and that was not something he experienced a lot. First the Plorgonarian had yelled at him that he was basically the worst person on the planet, and now he had brought him a gift? And not any gift: a pretty gift. A meaningful gift, at least to Jumba.

And to make things worse, he knew where the money to get it came from: before the Federation started sending their part, Nani had been giving both some allowance for food and basic utilities. Jumba had used most of them on online purchases and some on human pizza, which tasted surprisingly well, considering it had to be chewed (not the best feeling when you only have two big, rounded fangs). Instead, Pleakley had used at least some of it to get him a present. He probably didn’t have to eat much, but still… the ex-agent REALLY loved Earth food, and the knowledge that he had given up something he enjoyed so much to try to make up with Jumba made the scientist feel something warm in his chest.

He had become a softie, hadn’t he?

But no, there was something else there. True, he was now more considerate in general, even if it was just to make things easier during what would be a long stay on the planet. But he knew the reason he had been teasing Pleakley so much and enjoying chasing him around with ideas, and how hurtful it was when he yelled at him… it was something else.

Pleakley had awakened some kind of protective instinct in Jumba, something he didn’t know he had toward other living beings besides his own experiments. The Plorgonarian was very cute, even when for some reason he put himself in extravagant attire, and for such a small creature, he was filled with personality. Pleakley did look like a goody-three-shoes, but had soon displayed a rebellious side. Not only had he been brave enough to face Jumba (someone a lot bigger, who could have literally stepped on him), but he had been fine with stealing clothes from the store, joined a rescue mission directly against his bosses and chosen to be fabulous in disguise because he could.

Pleakley was actually lots of fun to be around. Jumba knew that he followed him with any excuse to talk because he enjoyed the little one’s attention; he liked to make him nervous with dangerous ideas, prompting him to react heavily at new things, only because he looked so cute and frail doing so. Teasing Pleakley was an excuse Jumba had given himself to be around him, and the scientist had even opened up a bit (as bad as that had gone). And the way the green alien words had the power to actually affect him…

The symptoms were clear: he was attracted to Pleakley. It was certainly a new feeling.

However, it wasn't new in the sense that Jumba hadn’t been attracted to others before; quite the opposite. The genius had so many past lovers and one-night-stands on his record that he had lost count years ago. He didn’t care if the other was male, female or anything between or outside that, and cared even less about their species or status. The big alien had some girlfriends before his marriage, and, after that had failed miserably, decided relationships were not his thing and opted for casual sex with whoever and wherever. He didn’t have any interest in the courting process, and his flirting technique consisted solely of asking anyone who caught his eyes if they would like a good sex session without strings attached.

It worked well enough for him, and Jumba could recall sexual encounters with half the locals he had been through - and that was not even counting how many ended in his lab. The Kweltikwanian had all kinds of experiences to speak of and quite a big libido, but interestingly, his encounters had been relatively old-fashioned as far as you could go with different species. He just wanted to pump for a while and had no interest in exploring new forms of pleasure for himself or his partners, and the only extra he had ever used was an aphrodisiac formula he had wanted to try for research. Jumba was not a terrible lover and made sure the other party had fun too, though that was only because some of them would become murderous otherwise and he didn’t want to deal with that (again).

So Pleakley was not new as far as gender, diversity of species, or even number of eyes went, but because he was so different from Jumba’s choices so far. Jumba had always liked to chase big, powerful, bulky bodies, and was attracted to confident, blunt, and strong-willed individuals. People who knew what they wanted and had beautiful curves to share with the world. Pleakley was the opposite of all that: small, weak, slim, timid, anxious, and humble.

It wasn’t that Jumba found his attraction to be wrong; just odd, and in fact, it was quite interesting to try something so peculiar. The idea of pinning Pleakley against the wall and making him nervous gave a rush of power and excitement to the scientist, and he wondered what that flexible, slim body was capable of doing. Jumba had no idea how Plorgonarians’ anatomy worked, but discovering it through Pleakley was a concept that made him really aroused.

Of course, in their current situation, that was a terrible idea. In the past, whoever slept with the genius by night would disappear the next morning. Few had been the exception, all before his marriage, and each of them had gone worse than the last. But Pleakley and he were stuck together for who knew how long: Earth was already a pretty small planet, and Kauai was the tiniest piece of land Jumba could conceive of. And since he couldn’t use his ship without alarming the Council and their living was dependent on the credits the Council sent to the Pelekais, they were both basically confined to the island.

Jumba didn’t want to face the awkwardness afterward if Pleakley said yes, and even less so the terribly uncomfortable situation if he said no. And of course he would say no, because Plorgonar was infamous for being incredibly rigid in regards to relationship and gender and only allowed opposite-sex couples. Which was such a nonsensical concept for the fuck-whatever-you-want Kweltikwanians, but it was not his place to judge; at least not with someone he would be living with and would become insufferable after having his culture criticized (such a shame, because Pleakley looked like the kind that would enjoy some male action). But no, it was still a terrible idea to even think of it; and honestly, would he miss much? Jumba had always gotten over his sexual interests more quickly than he did over his drinks, and “no” was a reply he never tried to argue. Their miss.

He never had to live with them afterward, though.

“Bah, am thinking too much.” He came back to the present, rolling his eyes. “If evil genius could go back to Kweltikwan, would be laughing-stock.”

Kweltikwan: THAT was a planet! A huge land of snow and ice where temperatures were always below zero and three moons shone every night in the sky. There, he wouldn’t have to be so freaking careful with every move just in case someone got offended. There, he could just be blunt and say whatever without thinking about all that silly “feelings” stuff.

Kweltikwanians had always been been notable for their independence and limited set of social manners; they were a highly intelligent but very tactless species, if one could put it that way. Interactions between them lacked most of the rituals other races partook in naturally, like courting or adapting etiquette; they barely acknowledged social hierarchy further than the notion of being in front of someone more dangerous. “Crude” would be the word Plorgonarians (and humans) would use to describe them.

However, their blunt and analytical approach also make them excellent mechanics, outstanding creators, and optimal survivors. Their social structure also reflected such tendencies; they lacked the concept of family, at least as far as the human term went. On Kweltikwan, individuals got together into clans instead. Clans were small groups of people that could be blood-related or not (they frankly didn’t care), which acted as a security net by allowing the adults to take care of all the offspring together, with no particular regard as to who their biological parents were. A kind of communal arrangement that had been born of pure necessity, as it made surviving in the endless icy plains of the planet easier. Kweltikwanians had always been very aware their structure was merely convenient, and thus didn’t consider it sacred or something you should devote your life to. Changing clans merely because you wanted to marry someone in another one was just common, and in the few cities where living was more effortless, it was frequent to stumble upon individuals without any clan at all. Kweltikwanians were, indeed, a very independent species.

Jumba was a unique case; not only was he a genius even by the high standard of the species, but he never felt the desire to connect with others at all. He had tried with his marriage and the clan he consequently passed on being part of, but when that went wrong, he had never felt a single drop of regret. The scientist was not exactly a typical Kweltiwanian, but he had always felt he belonged to his home planet. Really, he missed it, as pointless at that was; he had been banned years ago. Kweltikwan didn’t enforce that many laws, but the ones that were enforced were taken very seriously, and unfortunately for Jumba, “accidentally” destroying a city with genetic abominations was considered pretty serious. He did not care that much about the ban then, nor did he now. But he missed the place regardless.

Not as much as his lab, of course.

He looked at the shirt in his hands. The position of the stars was hilariously wrong, but still, it was beautiful. It had made him recall happy memories, so of course he was going to keep the hell of it. Maybe one of those weird nights, when he felt nostalgic and somewhat lonely, he could use it to remind himself that at least there was one person on the galaxy who cared for him enough to give him a gift. And Jumba didn’t want to ruin that. Maybe he should tone down his behavior a little, maybe try to be a little more… comfortable to live with. Just a tiny bit. He would find other ways to make Pleakley nervous without overstepping too much. No one could blame him for having a little fun!

“Besides, Pleakley is being so cute when nervous.” He grinned to himself, although immediately discarding the thought. Keeping his distance would be an interesting challenge, but Jumba was sure he would have no problem achieving it.

It only took a few days for him to fail his resolution.

It had just been too tempting. The door of what had been Lilo’s old room was open and he had noticed there was still nothing there, despite everything else in the house being done already. He roamed inside, not caring about the mess he was making with his dirty boots wherever he stepped. It was a nice room, quite big; it had probably belonged to both sisters before their parents passed away. And there was definitely enough room for two beds, perhaps… an evil smirk formed on his lips. Oh, he deserved a little bit of fun! After all, he had been behaving. He hadn’t destroyed anything for about a full week! And he was even generously sharing his amazing scientist knowledge with others, so it was only fair he got something in return. Having a nice new room and getting closer to his handsome little partner seemed like a good payment.

Of course, he couldn’t just say that out loud. Humans were… complicated. But also very easy to manipulate; he only needed to take advantage of Nani’s hospitality by suggesting the correct things, and then her manners and social conditioning would do the rest for him. Another brilliant plan of his evil-genius mind!

Jumba knew he was acting silly, but hey, he had nothing better to do anyway. There were only so many ways you could tinker with a inoperative ship and a few human gadgets. Maybe he should rescue the experimental container with the rest of the pods, but that was something that would be safer to try when Pleakley wasn’t constantly roaming the place, looking for something to clean. Maybe he could look into that “crop circles” thing Lilo had asked him about once; that sounded like a creative project to keep his focus on. Using lasers, establishing confusion, making doodles AND destroying someone’s else property? _Smitec feeboogoo_!

The genius wandered to his lab, pondering about the best (and most destructive) way to use his abilities. _Maybe_ , he thought, _Jumba can be great evil genius on Earth too!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Smitec Feeboogoo!: bring it on, damn!


	16. You’re Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: IMPLIED SEX; REFERENCED DOMESTIC ABUSE

Jumba was frustrated. No matter how much he tried to focus on the wires in front of him, nothing seemed to properly piece together. He swore he had already assembled the last one, yet it was obviously not there anymore. Every time he blinked, the placement of the pieces appeared to have changed. What was wrong? Had he become so inept overnight?

Suddenly, he felt two arms hugging his shoulders from behind. Warm arms, slightly slimy, only three fingers on each hand: Pleakley. Jumba froze in place, unable to do anything, unable to say anything. He could feel the hot breath of his partner on the back of his neck while the long fingers of the small alien started to draw circles on his chest, nice and slow. When Jumba felt Pleakley’s mouth kissing him from behind, his own respiration had already become heavy and erratic, a hot feeling creeping to his cheeks and invading him. That felt good… some more kisses and Pleakley was already on his ear, playing with the earlobe between his two tongues. Too good…

“A dream,” Jumba realized, catching his breath. Not that he was going to complain. Well, in that case, he’d better have fun before it faded away.

He enjoyed the feeling on his ear a little longer before turning around and grabbing the whimsical little figure towards his chest. Not dazed at all (it was Jumba’s dream, after all), the Plorgonarian quickly resumed his caressing, this time on the abdomen. As he kissed every inch of Jumba’s skin (which had become conveniently naked), his hands lowered more and more, prompting louder and louder moans from the scientist. The Kweltikwanian started purring as his body was becoming a hot mess, praying for the dream to keep going.

“Do you like that?” Pleakley rasped, finally touching his dick. Jumba was not usually the loud type, but this was a dream, so whatever. He whined and let himself drool in pleasure.

“Oh, yes, I do like that,” he purred. “Keep going…”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t recall exactly what came next, but it involved his dick, two tongues, and a lot of swearing. When he woke up, his blanket was hot and sticky.

“ _Blitznak_ ,” the genius mumbled, not sure if it was because he wished for the experience to had been longer or was worried about someone catching him. Slowly adapting his eyes to the light, he stared at the wood ceiling above him, confused for a moment about where the hell he was. “Oh, yes. New room. Earth. Exile. Yes,” he remembered, still sleepy. It had been a few days since they had moved into the house, but Jumba was still not quite used to it. The muffled sounds of the family eating breakfast caught his ears, and that was enough to confirm he was alone on the room. Pleakley was an early bird (just the opposite to Jumba’s more nocturnal preferences), and he would already be working in the kitchen, which was now very convenient considering the situation. If it were up to Jumba, he would keep sleeping until noon without a problem, but he knew the Plorgonarian would come for him if he didn’t show up at breakfast soon. Being hit with a pillow could be fun, but not when you’re barely awake.

So Jumba stretched himself until every bone in his body emitted a little cracking sound and lazily woke up. His pajamas itched a bit, but he had used only underwear to sleep for so many years that he was amazed it was even manageable. Quite a few things were different now, in fact; after the Federation fiasco, the scientist really wanted to step down from bio-engineering for a while, maybe try something new with thermodynamics, like a time-travel machine.

The rest of the family seemed to like that part of him more, as they were including him into their (silly) social rituals like eating together. And since he had people to care about now (well, not “care about.” More like “try not to kill”), Jumba was actually trying to go along with it. He woke up earlier than ever, made a noticeable effort to not shout every word, confined his mess and deadly stuff to the spaceship and even agreed to help with babysitting. Okay, that last one was cheating; he knew Pleakley would end up doing all the work. 626 and his little girl were quite entertaining to be around, so Jumba didn’t mind hanging out with them. He had not blown anything up in weeks and was even using the shower regularly! He had not bothered that much about his hygiene in years.

Though deep down, he knew that last one was mostly for Pleakley. Jumba wasn’t sure if the green alien could smell him (don’t you need a nose for that?) , but he didn’t fancy the idea of being considered unpleasant to be around. Both because Pleakley would nag him to death about it and because if something like his dream was ever going to happen between them, he didn’t want his scent to be the reason that stopped it. Considering the extremely low chances, it would be a shame to ruin it with such a stupid thing.

“Good morning!” Lilo sang to him as he made his way to the kitchen table. Everyone was almost done and Nani had already left for work. Jumba just answered with a soft grumble, more concerned with keeping his four eyes open.

“Finally!” added Pleakley, serving him some pancakes that he had probably helped Nani make. She didn’t trust the alien in the kitchen, despite herself being a terrible cook to begin with. Pleakley was learning fast, and food was becoming more edible as he was allowed to do more during the preparation.

626 was devouring a full bowl of cereal, so it took a while until he even looked at his creator. “ _Fooboo_?” he asked, more in a mocking tone than a concerned one.

“Yes, tired,” Jumba replied, looking around for his hand laser. _Blitznak_ , he had left it in the bedroom. Whatever; he could use that fork thing today. “Had very intense dream.”

“What did you dream about?” Lilo asked, curious as ever.

“Ah… erm…” _Smitec_ , why had he even mentioned the dream? “Just very evil genius things. With explosions. And death.”

“I thought you liked that.” Pleakley pouted. “You should eat before the pancakes get even colder. I tidied up the control room of the ship for you, so if you can PLEASE keep it that way, I’ll appreciate it. Oh, and I also sewed the hole you made in your shirt. You’re welcome!”

“Thanks,” Jumba mumbled, a little irritated: too much information in the morning. But he still made the effort to say it, because honestly? It was nice.

It was nice to always have clean clothes and warm food. It was nice not having to worry about tidying or organizing because the Plorgonarian already did that for him. It was nice that Pleakley took care of sewing his clothes, bringing him food and gently reminding him to rest when he got obsessed with work and lost track of time. Sure, at first, Jumba had hated it, finding it annoying that the green alien touched his things and roamed his space, as he was used to doing whatever he wanted. It took a while until he started appreciating the gestures, and was too proud to acknowledge that out loud. Chaos was his thing, after all. It wasn’t until he reached to take the usual snacks Pleakley had brought him and nothing was there that he realized: _blitznak_ , he missed it.

All considered, he had been lucky his friend was willing to keep doing these things for him despite Jumba barely giving him any credit for it. His ex-wife hadn’t been the caring type either, so all that was new for the genius and he had absolutely no idea how to reciprocate it. He guessed he had to be doing something right, or otherwise Pleakley would have stopped caring. Or so he hoped, because at that point, Jumba was utterly confused about what he was supposed to do.

“You are a lazy _trog_!” his wife always used to scream at him, often breaking whatever she had in hand. Then he would yell back and a new fight would break out for whatever little reason. They hated each other; divorce had been the best path and they knew it. The relationship had been too abusive for both, too dangerous. They knew one of them would end up badly hurt, and no matter how much resentment there was between them, they didn’t wish to harm each other to that extreme. It had gone too far. They were both too strong-willed, to stubborn, too proud.

Jumba had always thought he was just not built for relationships. Hämsterviel had been the person he had been closest to, and honestly, their friendship was only that because they benefited heavily from it. Jumba took Hämsterviel’s money; Hämsterviel took Jumba’s brain. The genius had never considered another way of doing it; in his experience, getting attached was the mistake he had made with his wife, and look at how that had ended. It was dangerous. But now, he had to admit that whatever kind of relationship he was developing with Pleakley, it didn’t resemble what he’d had with Hämsterviel or his ex-wife at all.

Maybe it was just because they weren’t two alphas fighting for power anymore. Maybe it was how patient Pleakley was with him, or how caring he was towards everyone and everything. Maybe it was just that they were older.

But regardless of the reason, Jumba liked it. It was a new kind of friendship, a selfless and honest one. And it was so different from all he had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Blitznak: Crap  
> · Fooboo?: Are you tired?  
> · Smitec: Damn it  
> · Trog: Moron/Asshole


	17. All Alone in Infinite Universe

Stitch was able to take a plethora of information at once and process it faster than a supercomputer. That was an extremely useful ability, but it really didn’t help when it came to understanding humans; they were just too different from computers, too erratic and particular. After weeks and weeks of lessons from Lilo, Stitch felt he had barely scratched the surface of the complicate amalgam of rituals, traditions, habits, and rules.

However, it still helped him notice everything that was going on around the house, even when his own worries would had been enough to handle.

Besides some problems with hula classes (mostly caused by that insufferable Mertle girl), Stitch knew Lilo was fine and happier now than she had been before adopting him. That made Stitch delighted; he loved Lilo like mad and believed she deserved all the good things in the world.

The adults around, however… something was off with all of them. Nani was always so stressed, and Stitch knew most of it was, in fact, her own doing; claiming to always be busy and running, she didn’t have to face that she wanted more. Wanted to stop being the adult when two other older people were there too, wanted to properly date David at last and have fun, wanted a real job that wasn’t always on the verge of firing her. But after finally securing Lilo and getting rid of the shadow of Social Services looming over them, Nani was too scared to hope for more, too scared to want more: too scared to go back to her personal Hell and not be able to find the way out. So she complied; she lied to herself and pretended that (since this was better than before) it was already perfect and it would be impossible to ask for more.

Pleakley was even easier to read; his earlier freak-outs had made it clear he could barely process being exiled, but after observing him for a while, Stitch had noticed his current feelings were very different. Pleakley was extremely pleased with his new life, and was devouring new hobbies and activities like he was never allowed to before (which was probably true). Beneath everything, Stitch could sense a terrible anxiety and the urge to run, always to run. The Plorgonarian was so scared to admit to himself what he really was like, that the only thing he did was try to find a new excuse not to think about it, over and over again. He was drowning in denial.

And then, of course, there was Jumba. Jumba the evil genius, Stitch’s creator. What exactly Stitch felt toward him, he couldn’t quite figure out. Maybe it was respect or love; he surely cared a lot for Jumba’s well-being. And like all the others, Jumba was behaving strangely.

He looked fine on the surface; the Kweltikwanian didn’t bat an eye when the Council exiled him, he managed the house situation all by himself, and he kept his cool intact during all the new changes in his lifestyle. Contrary to Pleakley or Nani, Jumba was not anxious and didn’t feel lost at all; he knew exactly where he stood and where was he going, or at least he appeared to know.

It took weeks for Stitch to even figure what was different, because the scientist was such an apathetic and distant person, but he managed to find it: Jumba was being nice. He had always been nice to his experiments, paternal even, and it wasn’t like he went around killing people (as much as the “evil genius” title implied). But during his short life, Stitch had learned something crucial about Jumba: he absolutely loved chaos. Nothing brought him more happiness, and really, the blue experiment did understand that feeling; he had been the same way. But while his chaotic urges had faded away and were overcome by the wish to belong, Jumba had remained the same. That was what was wrong with him; Jumba was trapped in a situation where being himself would be bad, but he also refused to let go, trying to find some perfect balance where everyone would be happy. And being as smart as he was, he was surely aware that perfect balance didn’t exist. It was not just that the genius was being nice, but that he was compromising a huge part of himself on behalf of others, and even when it was done on purpose, that was a terrible thing to go through. Stitch knew that well.

The question was still “Why?”. Why do that for a bunch of strangers? There had to be a reason Stitch hadn’t found yet. He could only be thankful for how helpful the big alien was being, though he wondered how much the others realized Jumba was struggling. Probably not at all. No one could blame them; the scientist was very good at putting on a laid-back façade. Ironic, considering how bad was he at lying directly.

Jumba liked Pleakley: that much, Stitch could tell. Why exactly escaped him, and it was not his business anyway. It was just surprising, considering what he knew about his creator, which, thanks to having been programmed with the knowledge already in his mind, was quite a lot. It had been Jumba’s way to test how the experiment managed individual profiles and information, which was supposed to help find the weak point of each enemy faster. It had quite literally blown up in the genius face, as Stitch had taken full advantage of it during the first days of being chased by him, knowing exactly what to do to prompt the reaction he needed from Jumba every time, always one step ahead.

When everything calmed down between them, however, Stitch really felt respect for the Kweltikwanian; he had risen from nothing to a threat worthy of the Galactic Council intervention, and done so almost completely on his own. What little help he had received, he’d had to work his _patooki_ off to get, and even his old partner/friend had demanded from him much more than what he ever gave on return. Was that even considered “helping”?

Jumba had never needed anyone. He had survived alone, always alone.

It had caught Stitch’s attention that for a few days, Jumba was acting even more off. The evil genius had taken… something from the ship. The blue experiment didn’t know what it was (privacy was something he took seriously, at least with his creator), but he knew it was important. Important and definitely dangerous and forbidden, because Jumba was hiding it, which, for someone who loved to boast of his work, was really suspicious. One could only wonder what kind of unspoken evil was necessary to make a guy that openly bragged about destroying entire planets think it was “too much.”

Not that Stitch had time to wonder much about it, though; he had his own problems to take care of. Lilo had been eager to teach him about Earth in her peculiar, adorable way, but it had been quite hard to grasp. For months now, they had been preparing for what should have been the moment Stitch was ready to connect with other humans and truly become part of society, part of the planet. Understanding Lilo’s lessons was difficult enough, but the most challenging part had been suppressing his own destructive instincts. Stitch had been programmed to destroy, after all, and thanks goodness there were no cities in Kauai, because he really wasn’t sure if he could have resisted the temptation. However, he just could not bear to disappoint his best friend; Stitch loved her too much. No matter how alluring his former desires were, Lilo’s love always won.

“Now, remember: in Hawaii, everybody calls each other ‘cousin.’ Not because we’re all related, but because we’re one big happy _ohana_! One happy family.” the little girl had said to him that same morning on the beach.

Stitch tried to do what Lilo instructed him to, he really did. That day was supposed to be the day he would take his rightful place as part of the Hawaiian community. Instead, he had blown it completely, and now he felt terrible. Like a failure. Lilo tried to cheer him up, telling him he was one of a kind (”Like Frankenstein!”), but Stitch realized he didn’t want that. He wanted to belong. To have others like him. For his own cousins to turn up.

Sure, humans were nice and Lilo would always be his best friend, but… there were things humans just couldn’t comprehend as he did.

“Insert tab A into chromosome B…” he heard his creator mumbling from his room as he roamed the hall. His plan had been to go to the kitchen to get more ice cream, but it left his mind immediately upon hearing the first word. Of course! Jumba! How didn’t he think of that?

If someone could lead to others like Stitch, it was the scientist that created him. Stitch was number 626 after all, and Jumba was noticeably bad at names, so it was only natural to assume he was, literally, experiment number 626. The blue alien didn’t want to look vulnerable in front of his creator, but… he really needed to make things right. For Lilo.

“Uh, Jumba?” he muttered, entering the room.

“Spies!” The evil genius jumped, scared. Stitch could clearly see the weird container Jumba was hiding under a blanket as he yelled, but this was not the moment to think about that. “Oh, 626. What do you want? Am busy doing genius work here,” the scientist protested, now calmer. Stitch didn’t want to waste time on pointless talk, so he just directly asked his creator if he had any cousin to relate to out there. Someone like him.

“Well, of course not. We are each one of a kind, you and I: evil genius scientist and evil genius creation. All alone in infinite universe,” Jumba answered, proud as ever. “Sure, you have maybe found tiny adopted earth family, but we have no, as you say, ‘cousins.’”  
Oh. That was not what he had been hoping for.

But it only took a few seconds for him to wish that had been his biggest problem that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Patooki: Ass


	18. Dr. Jacques Von Hämsterviel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: BULLYING; REFERENCED SEX

“Ah! Doctor Jacques Von Hämsterwheel!” Jumba commented as he saw his old partner accessing the detention cell where the Kweltikwanian was hanging upside-down, his whole body restricted inside a high-security restraint.

“Hämsterviel! It is Hämsterviel!”

The small rodent jumped hysterically as he corrected the mistake. Jumba already knew it was “Hämsterviel,” of course. They had known each other for nearly thirty years. That was why the scientist knew there was nothing in the galaxy his ex-partner hated more than his name being pronounced incorrectly, and that was exactly the reason he did it. After all, it was the least painful of the things Jumba wished he could do to him now.

He was boring, really, thinking of himself as oh-so-mighty just because he was the one making the money. At the end, it had been Jumba who made all the experiments, all 626 of them, and he was not going to give a single one back. What was Hämsterviel going to do about it, huh? Torture? Jumba could take that. Death? Ah, like he cared whether he died. Threatening interrogations? Of course, like that tiny fluffy gerbil could do anything to him, no matter how much he screamed. As always, the only thing Hämsterviel had was money, and Jumba couldn’t care less about that either, not anymore.

“Then I will threaten your family!” the rodent yelled at his face with his high-pitched voice. It made Jumba’s ears hurt.

Jumba laughed, of course. What family? He had no family, no clan, and no home. He was one of a kind, an evil genius scientist, all alone in the infinite universe! He had just explained that to 626, for _Huaa allah_ sake. Jumba was alone; he had always been alone. Hämsterviel should know that better than anyone. It was already that way when they had met.

It had been so long ago, still on Kweltikwan. During his first years at the impoverished school of _Jua’aquad_ , Jumba had been a rather problematic child who barely paid any attention to the regimented studies, more interested in developing his own abilities. But after he scored insanely high on an IQ test, the government took an interest in him and offered a deal: as long as he made his way to college with good grades, they would pay the scholarship for him to attend a prestigious university. Thrilled with the idea of having more knowledge and resources, Jumba was quick to devote himself to studies during his teenage years. He didn’t connect with his peers, as he found them stupid, but he couldn’t care less. He was used to being bullied already from the orphanage, as he was rather short and scrawny.

The genius was in a chemistry class when he met the rodent for the first time. The tiny alien was a transfer student, and if Jumba had bothered to look away from his chemicals for a minute, he would have noticed the other had the same poor social interaction with other teenagers as himself. The Kweltikwanian was in a terrible mood because the project had to be done in pairs, and he HATED teamwork. The others only set him back.

“Do you have a partner yet?” a squeaky voice behind him asked, nasal and slurry as Hämsterviel had sounded those years because of his braces. Wearing a patterned sweater and bearing two teeth too big for his mouth, he looked like a stereotypical nerd, and Jumba was already sick of him after the first word. The Kweltiwanian was also a nerd, but the loner type (which he liked to think was cooler), with his black messy hair and half-unbuttoned white shirt.

He grumbled a “No” that the rodent took as an invitation to sit next to him. Jumba was too focused on the chemical mix on the table to care.

“What are you doing?” the furry alien added, looking at the test tubes.

“Trying to work with this hydrazine solution…” the purple alien muttered, unamused, without stopping looking at his work. Was that rat trying to chat with him? How pointless.

However, what Hämsterviel said next made Jumba raise his head, suddenly interested.

“Oooh! You should add an oxidizer like nitric acid to…!”

“...make a big explosion!” they both ended up screaming in unison, facing each other. It was a weird feeling. Jumba didn’t usually connect with others, especially others his age. But instead of surprise, what appeared on their faces were smiles: evil, wicked smiles. They knew exactly what they were going to do.

“Quick, push the button!” the gerbil pressed him a few nights later, when both were hidden behind a set of trash cans. Jumba hoped his little creation would work, and when an explosion and several curses were heard across the street, proving their success, both started laughing maniacally. It had been a rather small thing (just a stink bomb in front of the house of a teacher they particularly disliked), but oh, was it fun! Jumba loved the screams, the disorientation, the feeling of being the only ones that knew what had happened from afar.

So of course they made an habit of it, escalating their jokes more and more and always avoiding being caught. It was such a strange way to start a friendship, but they enjoyed it so much.

“You’re evil.” Hämsterviel grinned at him as they watched how an entire class had collapsed in chaos and tears after they released a gas capable of making hair abruptly catch fire.

“Am not. Am genius,” Jumba had replied. The rodent was smart and capable of building things, but only Jumba had the creative genius to assemble completely new devices from scratch with whatever was available at the moment.

“An evil genius, then!” The tiny alien rubbed his hands together, enjoying their destructive actions. The Kweltikwanian didn’t consider himself “evil,” really, but it sounded good. And, well, he was enjoying their actions a lot, so maybe that made him evil. Yeah, that was the perfect title for him; he should embrace it! Jumba the evil genius! It sounded deliciously chaotic.

They graduated with excellent grades, and no one ever found out they were responsible for such extreme pranks. As promised, Jumba was gifted a scholarship, and when he learned Hämsterviel had one to attend Evil Genius University, he thought it was a signal from the universe. Technology and chemistry were fun, but it was there that Jumba found his passion: bioengineering and the possibility of creating life from scratch.

As brilliant as Hämsterviel was too, however, his life took a completely different path after he got rid of the noticeable braces and noticed his and Jumba’s prank items were considered hilarious by most of the college students. They got invited to parties, girls were fawning over them, jocks thought their work was cool. Jumba didn’t really enjoy the attention that much, because he still considered making something explode more fun than getting drunk (though he definitely took the chance when hormones came and he had the opportunity to sleep around); but Hämsterviel LOVED it. He loved being the focus of attention, loved the praise, and loved being able to dictate what others should do.

Looking back, it was there that their friendship started to change. Hämsterviel used Jumba’s creations to become popular and get dates, sometimes going as far as criticizing his friend’s “stupidity” in front of others and claiming he was the one building everything. The Kweltikwanian growled through his gritted teeth, but never said anything until they were alone again, not wanting to mess with whenever scheme they were doing at that point. Hämsterviel ended up being praised for being a genius at all the popular parties while Jumba worked on their shared room alone.

That was cocky on his part, but, well, they were evil, after all. Jumba was just glad to finally get a doctorate alongside his friend, hoping their relationship could go back to how it was before college. Having a title but not much more on his back, he passed the days making rounds on the garbage dump, looking for anything he could use in a laboratory, as everything related to bioengineering was too expensive for them.

So when Hämsterviel told him they would open a business together with some money he had “found” (Jumba didn’t ask, but he suspected it had to do with a rigged bet), the genius was completely on board. “Jokes on You” was the result of their partnership, and they started selling the prank items that had been so popular on campus. The money was going to help them acquire the proper resources to create a genetic creature: something destructive that would surely help them climb the evil ladder and become real evil geniuses.

It was then that Hämsterviel, slowly but steady, started becoming more… demanding. He had gotten used to popularity and the power rush that came with it, and now with only Jumba to boss around, it unleashed completely within him. Jumba had to create the prank products for the business, had to work at the shop both as a cashier and as accountant, and was also almost entirely responsible for the progress on the genetic experiments.

The Kweltikwanian enjoyed working and didn’t notice the abuse at first, but as months passed by, he got tired of being yelled at. Hämsterviel always dismissed his frustration and came back with some half-baked apology, and Jumba always ended up forgiving him and keeping the pace.

It took the genius two years (which was honestly an impressively short time, but still felt like too much) before he was able to bring a little creature to life: experiment 001, or, as Hämsterviel decided to nickname it, “Shrink.” With the power to enlarge or (obviously) shrink objects or people at will, it was not the most threatening of beings, but Jumba was happy with it as a first try. He only wished the damn media wasn’t calling him an idiot.

Hämsterviel wasn’t satisfied with that, though, and decided to give the little creature a more practical, evil use: threatening the owners of a factory to give them the place nearly for free. Being almost crushed by a temporarily giant Hämsterviel, they had no choice but to accept the deal, and so began what would become a long list of shady deals around the city. Jumba didn’t ask questions as long as he had the money to keep creating, and suddenly, they could actually afford much better resources for their mischievous plans.

The scientist kept working on his experiments, although most of his creations were still more annoying than actually harmful, like an opossum that licked things, a very irritating yapping dog, a neat freak, or a popcorn machine (well, Jumba didn’t consider that last one a failure at all. He loved popcorn). It took him twenty tries and quite a lot of money that Hämsterviel was collecting from who-knows-where to make his first hit: an experiment able to sell anything to anyone. Hämsterviel was quick to take advantage of it with three different businesses that he had already quite literally stolen from their previous owners and used the experiment to sell whatever crap he could shill to the public. Money was rolling in like crazy, and Jumba was thrilled to be able to focus all his attention on experiments, since they no longer needed to keep the prank shop. Now that things were fine, their friendship seemed to be better, too: just evil partners doing evil things.

It escalated quickly. By experiment 029, they had a mind-control minion. By 032, a lie detector that drove the shady organizations Hämsterviel made deals with mad. From 040 onward, Jumba started designing actual weapons: experiments that dug underground structures, ate buildings, terrorized people, and held hostages. Experiment 051 was his masterpiece back then, with an acid spit capable of consuming everything. He was so excited to test the experiments and so mad that the media kept mocking him and his creations (unaware of what they were actually doing on the shadows) that he let a few of them loose on a nearby city.

Nothing could be saved.

That was when both he and Hämsterviel were banned from Kweltikwan. Forced to dehydrate his experiments as pods for travel, Jumba designed a special container to keep them safe and left behind all belongings that were not in his lab. As Hämsterviel was used to making the decisions, and most of his “clients” (if the poor victims could be described as such) were on Turo, that was where they ended establishing themselves.

They found a good deal on an abandoned lab secluded from everything, which they bought and refurbished for their own goals. After the Kweltikwan fiasco, they decided they had to act as discreet as possible this time, and got legal day jobs to hide their true colors; as Hämsterviel landed a job as a supervisor at a weaponry factory, Jumba started working as a minor scientist at the Galaxy Defenses Industries. Years kept going by, Jumba kept creating whatever new genetic abominations he could think of, and Rupert Hämsterviel (now Jacques Von Hämsterviel, as he had taken the time to change his name upon installing himself on Turo) kept hoarding fortune and power from any poor soul that crossed his path.

By then, the tiny alien’s ego was bigger than the whole planet, and his behavior towards his former friend hadn’t improved at all. It got even worse. He kept most of the benefits to himself, only giving Jumba the bare minimum to keep creating; mocked his partner at formal reunions and parties, knowing the scientist couldn’t say anything without blowing their charade; lied to him constantly; and even stole the experiments whenever he deemed it good without asking.

Meanwhile, Jumba had escaped the public eye for years, stopped attending any event, and secluded himself in his lab, where his work eventually allowed him to be promoted to Lead Scientist. That was a respectable position, if not that well-paying, but now the authorities were eager to send him whatever he needed, including an endless uburnium energy supply! It was all Jumba had ever dreamed of, and now he didn’t need Hämsterviel to have it. He had conformed out of habit, out of needing the money, even out of some sense of loyalty; but the partnership had no use for him anymore and Jumba was very tired. Very tired of Hämsterviel yelling at him, demanding him to work faster, embarrassing him, cheating him, getting all the credit and hoarding all the benefits.  


He had created 625 illegal genetic experiments. He was not a fucking goddamn amateur.

When Hämsterviel tried to take another of his creations from behind his back, Jumba was waiting. They had a very heated argument that day. The gerbil had screamed at him that he would be nothing without his help; that it had been his work that had brought them there. That if he wished, he could have done it without Jumba entirely, since the Kweltikwanian was a loser anyway.

“Then do it! Alone!” Jumba barked back, taking the experiment’s container away from the tiny hands of his partner. He’d had enough. If Hämsterviel was the one making everything work, then surely he could go on without his creations.

“You will pay for this! This is not the last time you hear from me, fathead! I’ll make sure you lose everything I made you gain!” the gerbil threatened him while leaving the lab. Jumba didn’t think he was serious.

Not until the Galactic Federation raided his lab, arrested him, and captured his just-created masterpiece.

Jumba never had to ask who finked on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Huaa allah: Lord  
> · Jua'aquad: City


	19. I Have Family?

Jumba had assumed Hämsterviel had died after reading the news that one of his factories had exploded with him presumably still inside. They never found the body, but given his tiny size, it would have been easy to miss. Therefore, the scientist was genuinely surprised to learn that he not only was still alive, but had enough funds to hire the former captain of the Galactic Armada.

It still was less surprising than hearing Pleakley’s voice on the phone.

He couldn’t believe the green alien had gone through the actual _blitznak_ Periwinkle Pages to ask for him. It was utterly insane. The genius was so happy to hear him, though, because it was a very real possibility that it would be the last time they would talk. So of course, he made a joke, because it was fun and represented the kind of Jumba he wanted the others to remember.

Unfortunately, because he had to stick his furry little nose everywhere, Hämsterviel took the call from him and proposed a deal: he wanted all six hundred and twenty-four other experiments as a ransom, or, well, the others could forget about seeing their friend alive again. Jumba wasn’t worried because he had been really clear to Pleakley: protect the other experiments from Hämsterviel or the galaxy would be doomed. He would not attend the exchange. Jumba would die, but eh. He had lived enough. Besides, he was sure none of the others would miss him much anyway. It was for the best.

Learning they actually HAD accepted the deal and would sacrifice everything to bring Jumba back was an even bigger surprise.

Why?

The way Pleakley was looking at him when he left the ship… he did care about Jumba, didn’t he? The Plorgonarian looked so worried. He wanted Jumba back, badly enough to face an extremely anxious situation. The FBI man was also there, and it was obvious the slim alien couldn’t have decided all this on his own, so that meant… the others wanted him back too. They were risking everything for Jumba’s safety, and it was such a strange new feeling. No one had ever done so much for him, not even his ex-wife, and it felt wonderful. Like a little swamp of insects in his stomach. It made Jumba want to be saved, to be alive. To go back home well with 626 and his human family. And Pleakley, of course.

Jumba hadn't been scared of death for a minute; he had accepted his mortality many years ago. But he couldn’t die now, not now. Now he had people that actually cared for him, that were there trying to save him and, now that he thought on it, were always there supporting him.

The genius now regretted his initial acceptance of dying at Hämsterviel hands, wishing that some miracle would release him alive and not doom the galaxy on the process. He didn’t want to die yet; please make something happen so he didn’t have to die yet.

And a miracle happened, because he was that lucky; or, rather, because he had made such an amazing creature as 626. And _Huaa allah_ , was he amazing! Along with his little girl, he not only saved Jumba and chased Hämsterviel away, but left an entire ship of the Galactic Armada inoperative using experiment 211’s electric powers (which was beautifully chaotic, by the way). The tiny doctor still had the rest of the pods, but Jumba couldn’t bring himself to care, not after hearing Pleakley’s words.

“Thank goodness our little broken family is back together.”

It took Jumba a second to process it. Family? He had a family? Of course he did; those people there did their best to save him because they cared about him. They liked him. They thought he was part of their family, their clan, their ohana. It was such a wonderful discovery: he had a family! And he loved it!

Overjoyed upon what he had just realized, Jumba happily laughed out loud as he reached for Pleakley and embraced him in a tight hug. It hadn’t been a planned gesture, but not a coincidence, either: Pleakley was exactly who Jumba wanted to hug. Because damn, the guy would have a meltdown over choosing a hat and yet there he was, on a ransom exchange just to bring Jumba back. His warm little body felt so good to hold, maybe just because the scientist thought it was something he would never was going to experience when death was a real outcome that morning. And hugs weren’t usually Jumba’s thing, but he was so happy, and Pleakley was his best friend, after all.

No, not his friend. Pleakley was his family.

That night, the Kweltikwanian went to bed in the best mood he had been in in years. Not only because he was alive, or because he had a family and there were more than six hundred experiments loose on the island (and were for sure going to make a big mess, which was amazing!), but also because he was actually excited. He was excited to return home and see which pods would activate, try new ideas, maybe even go sightseeing like had Pleakley always insisted he do. Until that moment, Jumba had only thought of Earth as some boring temporary punishment he had to endure, so he never bothered to make himself comfortable on it. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps Earth could be a nice place to stay. Perhaps it could be his new home, and who knew… perhaps there was something great waiting to be done on the watery planet.

“Don’t scare me like that again. I was so, so worried” he heard his roommate say from the bottom bunk, almost a whisper. Pleakley always worried so much about everything. But… somehow, Jumba liked that.

For as long as he could remember, he had never valued his life much. It was not that he wanted to die, but being alive was simply something that was there. Jumba never tried to protect himself, and that he hadn’t perished in some bizarre accident yet had just been his luck. Someday, he would explode, or get vaporized, or be erased from existence, and no one would notice.

Not anymore. Now there was a bunch of people, a little group of beings that would notice. And suddenly, death was scary. Death was something to fear. Because if Jumba died, now he would leave people behind, people he cared about and wanted to protect and make happy. They had changed him, and who cared if that was corny or soft; he liked it. He was happy to be alive, actually happy to be there. Jumba was happy.

So he just replied “Thanks,” because that was exactly how he felt.

It made him think about Christmas, a human festivity they had celebrated not so long ago. The scientist thought it was the most nonsensical thing in the world, but it had been the first time he had let the begging of Pleakley persuade him to participate in something like that. Jumba had never liked parties, not even small ones, but he had to admit… it was quite entertaining. His partner had instructed him to get presents for Lilo and 626, and the genius had taken the time to make little flying cars for both. A silly toy he could build easily, but it had made them so happy (and Nani so distressed, which was a plus). Jumba even let Pleakley dress him as that Santa guy, because trespassing on property and having elf slaves sounded cool enough.

It had been a very small reunion, only the Pelekai and the three aliens, and they opened presents, ate food and decorated a tree for some stupid reason. Pleakley also sang (or tried to; he was a terrible singer), Lilo recited some traditional poems, and Nani ended up inviting David. They had mashed potatoes, which were absolutely delicious, so Jumba stayed in a good mood through all of it.

And that was the thing: he had been happy doing all that silly stuff. The genius even laughed as he opened his presents, which were pointless things like a shell necklace Lilo had made or pajamas Pleakley thought would suit his skin color (Stitch’s improved chainsaw was amazing, though). Jumba hadn’t bothered to make more gifts than the ones he had built for the little duo, but no one cared; they were all just glad to see the others smiling and having a good time. And Jumba liked that, no matter how hard it was to admit to himself. Even with rules, and parties, and restrictions, and manners; and without a proper lab.

They were still his family and he loved them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Blitznak: Fucking  
> · Huaa allah: Lord


	20. They Were Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo 20 chapters, holy spirit. To whoever is still reading, I love you with all my heart. I wanted to make this one special, so it's a little different from the others, a lot more talking and also longer (don't worry, I will go back to the usual lenght afterwards!). It may not be much in terms of story, but who doesn't want to read these two talking about nothing for a while? I do. Oh, and for old readers, I also inform you I also added an art cover to the first chapter! Not only that, but I'm getting help from JCMorrigan (a lovely user from the site) to correct my grammar, so hopefully this fics keep getting better!
> 
> This story is extremely important for me due personal reasons and can't thank you enough for giving it a chance. Thank you.
> 
> Episodes featured: Richter, Phantasmo, Clip, Mr. Stenchy

“Why ‘Wendy’?”

It was a quiet Sunday morning. Pleakley and Jumba were in their shared room, enjoying each other’s company despite partaking in completely different activities. Jumba was playing around with the hardware of his laptop, trying to fix a problem he had with the data, and Pleakley was learning how to use his recently-acquired retro sewing machine, testing it on a piece of fabric. It took the Plorgonarian a moment to understand the question Jumba had asked without even raising his head from the wires of his computer.

“Oh. It means ‘brave warrior’ in our language,” Pleakley replied without giving it much thought. “Such a bad choice for me, don’t you think?” The purple alien chuckled, but didn’t reply. “And you? Why ‘Jumba’?”

“Name is having no meaning. Orphanage gave it to Jumba.” The scientist shrugged, though he added on a happier note: “But ‘Jookiba’ is meaning ‘inventor’ in planet language! Evil genius thought sounded good, yes?”

“Wait, you came up with that surname yourself? So it’s not your real one?”

“It is real,” Jumba insisted. “Had none before University, and needed surname for boring paper registration. So I gave myself one. All legal.”

He grinned and Pleakley giggled softly. They talked a lot more after the kidnapping accident, often just asking random questions to each other. Pleakley had been particularly attentive to anything his roommate had to say, and though the scientist enjoyed the attention, he was curious about some details too. They often stayed in the same room, each doing their own thing and feeling comfortable with the pact of silence between them. From time to time, one asked a question or made a comment, and the other answered gladly. It was nice.

“Where did you meet your ex-wife?” Pleakley asked after a few minutes, making sure the fabric he was going to use was the right color.

“Way back on Kweltikwan. Had just created first evil-genius experiment. Hämsterviel and Jumba had shop together!”

“Really?”

“Yes, prank shop. Needed money. Ex-wife was client, and she had curves enough for three moons! We started dating, but rushed a lot. Decided to marry less than year later. Worst decision of entire life,” the Kweltikwanian laughed.

Pleakley shrugged, leaving the topic there. A few more minutes of quiet passed by until Jumba spoke again, still pondering his words.

“Maybe I should contact evil genius clan,” he thought out loud. “It was wife’s clan, so never tried. But Jumba was only angry with her, not them.”

“Clan? What’s a clan?”

“Is like… family,” the scientist clarified as he carefully extracted a chip from the computer.

“I thought you didn’t have one.” Pleakley raised his head slightly. He didn’t want to push his luck too much.

“No, well, it was wife’s clan and became mine in marriage. But after divorce, never talked to others again. They were nice. Perhaps Jumba should…” He stopped himself. The genius didn’t like to share his feelings, not even with Pleakley. He changed the subject, knowing his friend would leave the topic alone if he did so. “What about your family?”

“Oh, don’t make me talk about my family!” the green alien groaned with a theatrical gesture. “There’s no woman in the galaxy fiercer than my mother. She won’t take anything but perfection. I have two younger siblings and they both hate me! Pixley only remembers I exist to mock my career, and I haven’t had a proper talk with Bertley since we were kids.”

“And your father?”

“He died.” Pleakley fell quiet for a moment, looking at the sewing machine. It took him a few seconds to continue, almost dragging his words out; “He was an example of what a Plorgonarian should be. Always happy, always well-dressed in his suit, always so manly and athletic, always helping the neighbours, supporting his family and getting praised at his job. He worked at this huge construction company as a head safety inspector, and was perfect both in the office and in the field. We didn’t connect much.” He paused again “It was an accident. A big cargo load needed to be shipped immediately and there was no one to check the safety ropes. My father decided to do it himself. They weren’t properly settled and it… fell onto him.”

Jumba stopped working, not knowing how to react to that. Pleakley gulped the last words down and kept sewing the same part of the fabric over and over without raising his head.

“I’m sorry” the scientist mumbled, that being the only thing he could think of.

“I know,” Pleakley said with the empty, blank sadness only distant tragedies leave. They remained in silence for the rest of the morning.

“Why Earth Studies?” Jumba asked him a couple days later while eating ice cream on the living room sofa. One of those boring documentary films Pleakley liked to watch was playing on the TV.

“I think it’s fascinating!” the Plorgonarian exclaimed. “It’s such a mysterious planet; no one knew almost anything about it for years! But what was published… I always thought it was beautiful.” He looked at the exquisite views of the Amazon rainforest on the screen, his eye sparking with admiration. “Not only that, but humans are such wonderful little creatures. Their rituals and customs are so peculiar, and they look so funny. But even if it’s endangered, I’m not keen on the mosquito anymore!”

Jumba giggled remembering the poor slim alien’s first nights on Earth, always covered in bites. Not bothering to add anything, he licked the ice cream from his spoon. It was already half-melted, but the purple alien liked it more that way.

“Ice cream again?” Pleakley nagged him. “Too much sugar can’t be good for you, you know!”

“You are one to talk!” the Kweltiwanian replied in a mocking tone. “I know Pleakley keeps food under the bed and eats it when he thinks no one is looking!”

The Plorgonarian went red at the accusation. He thought no one knew that. “That’s different! Ever heard of midnight snacks?” he defended. “Besides, at least it’s solid food! You’re always eating these messy things everywhere! They’re a pain to clean! Why can’t you just chew…?”

He wasn’t able to finish, because as he talked, Jumba simply opened his mouth a bit in front of him and he realized: oh, right, no teeth. Of course the scientist didn’t like to chew with only two big fangs at the sides.

“Well, you never told me. I’m not thinking about you all day!” Pleakley protested, crossing his arms, which made Jumba grin. “Otherwise I would’ve brought you softer snacks when you’re working.” He paused a moment, waiting for a reply that didn’t come, as the genius was focused on the ice cream again. “Is that your favorite food…?”

“No,” Jumba replied.

“So what is?” Pleakley inquired, just making his roommate grin again. “Come on, tell me!”

“Pleakley is gossiper,” the scientist teased, pointing to him with the spoon.

“I am not!” the green alien protested, hitting Jumba on the shoulder. “Come on, tell me! Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

Jumba burst into a loud laugh as his partner begged him like a child. _Blitznak_ , Pleakley was so cute.

“Mashed potatoes,” the scientist confessed days later while browsing his lab for a glyphosate solution. Pleakley was in the room, skimming through a fashion magazine and lazily resting on a big chair. It took him a second to understand what his friend was saying, but at that point, he had gotten used to Jumba only answering questions days later, often with just enough words to do so.

“Cold or warm?” the Plorgonarian asked, marking a page on Victorian fashion for later.

“Warm,” the genius replied. He considered going on and saying he liked warm things because it was always so cold on his home planet and Kweltikwanians had a rather low body temperature, but he wasn’t able to. This whole “caring about others” thing, both in showing interest himself and having someone that had an interest in him, was so new and strange for him.

“Are you coming to the pizza place tonight?” Pleakley inquired.

Jumba just groaned.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. I have to drag you everywhere; you haven’t been outside since we bought earthquake drill supplies. You can’t lay around here all day!”

“I could, if green noodle wasn’t so bossy,” Jumba pointed, and the ex-agent blew a raspberry at him. The scientist rolled his eyes. “Fine; will go. Little girl says is there being a robotic tropical avian. May be entertaining.”

“Oh, dinner with a spectacle! I’ll have to wear my best wig.”

“Why does Pleakley like wigs so much?” Jumba asked, looking at his friend. It was something he had wondered before.

“Because I…” Pleakley’s confidence seemed to disappear with his ability to find the proper words. Because he didn’t like himself? Because he didn’t like how others defined him, more specifically? Because sometimes he wished he wasn't male, not because he had any problems with his body, but because the expectations that it brought upon him made Pleakley miserable? “...think they’re pretty,” he replied instead.

“They are good for female human disguise,” the scientist commented.

“Oh, yeah, for the disguise. Absolutely just for the disguise,” Pleakley added with a nervous giggle.

Jumba wanted to ask more, but he didn't. He could feel it was something his roommate didn’t want to talk about, and, oddly, he respected that.

Pleakley changed the topic. “Is that for another of your crop-circle things?”

“Maybe.” The scientist grinned, thinking about his last attempt. He had discovered crop circles in a human horror movie and thought they were really fun to imitate. So far, he had imprinted random symbols and a couple of questionable words five times around the island. For some reason, Nani didn’t like that. But Pleakley was mostly neutral about it, despite liking to point out they were a “completely inaccurate representation of alien culture.”

They both returned to their activities in silence.

“Do you think Gantu will be a problem?” Pleakley asked days later while tending the pink flower he kept in their room. Despite his talent with vegetables, he was terrible at keeping flowers alive.

“Hah! Big dummy could not catch experiment if it was on his face,” Jumba dismissed, welding together two pieces of aluminum with a laser. He was feeling creative.

“Well, Lilo is doing a wonderful job. She and Stitch have already caught a bunch of your little monsters, so everything is going fine,” the green alien commented “Besides, the last one, Mr. Stenchy? He was adorable! And he smelled wonderful. It’s such a shame we had to send him away. He made me feel dizzy and happy.”

Jumba said nothing, but he mentally noted the words. He still had 254’s stink formula somewhere. Perhaps…

“Oh! It’ll be Heelowatty soon!” Pleakley exclaimed, making Jumba lose track of his thoughts. “I’m so excited for that one! We’ll be able to wear costumes.”

“We are always wearing costumes,” the genius protested, looking at his own clothes. Did Pleakley think he wore them for pleasure?

“No, no, I mean better ones. Of actual people!”

It was hard for Jumba to get angry at him. Pleakley looked so happy. “I’m thinking I should be Cleopatra, the Queen of the Nile. You could be Julius Caesar!”

Jumba rolled his eyes. “Why does Pleakley add evil genius to all silly plans?”

“I need a partner, and you’ll look hands…” The Plorgonarian corrected his words quickly. “Fun! It’d be more fun if we are both dressed up! That’s it. No other reason than that.”

Jumba groaned as his roommate started begging him again. it was a ritual at that point, because they both knew the scientist always caved to his friend’s requests after a bit, no matter how crazy or extravagant they were.

Pleakley loved having any excuse to be closer to Jumba, feeling light and dizzy inside every time he saw him laugh. He just wanted to hug the genius, kiss him, make him see them as more than just friends. The green alien had accepted that was just not an option; they couldn’t and they shouldn't be more, but… he was not able to stop his hearts from racing like crazy every time Jumba was around. The Kweltikwanian was just so handsome and intelligent. Thank goodness Pleakley had all those good arguments to make the scientist join him in those fun activities!

Except he hadn’t. Jumba was never convinced by any of his friend’s reasons; he still thought most of those things were pointless, stupid, and a waste of time. But the reason the big alien kept caving, again and again, was because the damn little noodle had the cutest smile. This was quite a boring planet and quite a boring life, but that smile… that huge eye sparkling with excitement at the tiniest of details… it made Jumba defenseless against Pleakley’s pleas. It was a feeling he could not describe, and he wasn’t even sure if it was still only lust at that point. All he knew was that it felt good.

They were comfortable with each other. At the end of the day, maybe it was not exactly what they wanted, but it was more than they had expected. And they were very happy with it: together, enjoying each other’s company.

They were friends. And that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Blitznak: Damn it


	21. Mr. and Mrs. Jookiba

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: REFERENCED SEX; SEXUAL TENSION
> 
> Episodes featured: Spooky, Holio, Cannonball, Yapper

There were three reasons Jumba’s ex-wife was his worst fear, and none of them were actually about her. She was what he feared most because she had the power to awake in the Kweltikwanian what Jumba considered to be the three worst aspects of himself.

First of them was his emotional side, the one that rushed into action without properly thinking about the consequences. Jumba took pride in analyzing every step before acting, so there were not a lot of decisions from the past he had regretted. However, he had hurried the relationship with his ex-wife greatly, intoxicated with feelings of love and lust, even some desire to belong somewhere. They both were young and attractive, they were clever and sharp, and everything looked so beautiful that he never stopped to think about how the marriage would actually work. It was a big mistake. When the feelings ran out, they were overcome by reality; they didn’t go well together. But it was already too late, and if only Jumba had used his rational brain at the start, so much pain could have been avoided. Yes, his emotional side was one Jumba tried never to use anymore. Feelings were messy and often destructive, even when one didn’t intend them to be.

Jumba’s boring side was another part of hi that he despised. After the marriage, he had tried so hard to be what his wife and her clan had expected him to become. Jumba did his best for a few months to be a serious worker and a traditional man, even leaving behind his science projects. He had hated every second of it, and became incredibly resentful not only toward his wife, but toward his new clan as well. It was not really their fault, Jumba realized now, but he had been such a _trog_ to them because he couldn’t take it anymore. Even after the divorce, he had used Experiment 355 on his wife only to cause a ruckus between them; just because he couldn’t stand how boring and uninteresting his life had been during the marriage.

Above it all, though, there was the worst part of Jumba, the worst possible version of himself and the piece that scared him most: his violent side. The side of Jumba that actually tried to hurt others, not because of the fun of collateral damage, but just for the pleasure of it. The side that purposely dragged his wife into his abuse only because he really hated her and wanted her to suffer. The side that, had he not bothered to stop himself in time, would have gone too far and enjoyed it. Jumba had never been a sadistic person, but being trapped with someone that makes you miserable really pushes anyone to the worst kind of atrocities. Even if Jumba didn’t act on most of those wishes, he had still had them. And he was terrified to know that somewhere inside him, he truly was capable of being a monster.

Jumba was thankful Experiment 300 (or, as the little girl called him, “Spooky”) had been quickly interrupted by 626 while impersonating his ex-wife, because there were things he would rather not think about, ever. At least now he knew everyone else’s worst fears, which could be useful: 626 was terrified of water (obviously. The scientist was already working on fixing the molecular density problem), the little girl was scared of clowns, the bigger girl still feared Social Services, and Pleakley cried at the vision of his own mother scolding him.

Jumba had heard some of the things the nightmarish woman said to the Plorgonarian, and they were indeed pretty harsh. Was that what Pleakley was so scared of? Being a disappointment to his family? But why? There was nothing wrong with Pleakley, nothing that Jumba could tell. Okay, maybe Pleakley was way too dramatic and a little effeminate, but he had a career and it didn’t look like he gave his family any problems. There was no reason for the slim alien to feel like a failure. But who knew? Plorgonar was an extremely bizarre planet were even eating had an extended set of rules, and maybe Pleakley didn’t quite fit there, the genius thought. Which was a shame (for Plorgonar), because as extravagant as he was; Pleakley was also the funniest member of his species Jumba had ever met. Who cared about silly rules anyway?

For what it was worth, life on Earth wasn’t as dull as Jumba imagined it. So far, he had modified the primitive Earth vehicle of the family to be able to drill, fly, and resist temporal anomalies, and once (after being completely destroyed), he rebuilt it as a custom race car. The scientist also made evil-genius improvements to whatever unsupervised home appliance he could find, such as the toaster, the forks (now with lasers!), and the stove. It was not as exciting as creating life, but it was fun enough, and the planet was on the edge of being destroyed every few days, which Jumba felt very proud of.

And the genius had to admit he had grown quite fond on the members of his new ohana, going as far to nearly start crying when Lilo bought him a present for taking care of her (he didn’t, though, because he was Jumba Jookiba and he didn’t cry, _blitznak_!).The only downfall was that he still had to serve Community Services on Asteroid K-37, as he was still considered a criminal with a debt to pay to society. At least it was only a day a month, and although it was exhausting, it didn’t interfere much with his life.

However, the scientist was always hoping for something to break up his routine, and when the chance to travel to Honolulu with Pleakley, 626, and his little girl arose, he jumped right into it.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jookiba: two adults, one child, and one dog,” The receptionist recited as the group checked in at the hotel hall. He looked at the strange couple and their… child? (he honestly wasn’t going to ask)… and gave them the keys for their room.

Pleakley had done the reservation under the pretense that he and Jumba were a human married couple as usual, which the genius could only guess was a more convenient way for him to disguise as a woman. Nani had introduced the green alien to the marvelous world of credit cards, and it had been a beautiful disaster to observe; by then, the Plorgonarian had already accumulated twenty-eight of them, completely unaware of how they worked. Jumba did know, but he thought it would be a lot funnier to just be quiet and entertain himself with the downfall when the bills would inevitably come.

That was what the Kweltikwanian was thinking of when they entered their room. After sitting on the bed, he noticed his partner had become pale as chalk, and was looking at him with a utterly panicked expression in his eye.

“What?” Jumba asked, confused and looking around.

“There’s only one bed…” Pleakley muttered. “Of course; we’re supposed to be married.”

“Oh? Yes, only one sleeping appliance,” the scientist commented. That was the reason the green alien was so pale? Such a silly thing. Pleakley had probably forgotten human married couples shared beds and made the reservation without thinking.

“Well, uh…” The Plorgonarian made an effort to compose himself and return to his usual tone “Never mind. As long as you don’t hoard the blanket, it’ll be fine! I need half of the bed to be comfortable.”

“Aw, but is TINY! Evil genius will be squashed there!” Jumba protested. But his roommate had already headed to the bathroom, where he was gushing over the beauty products of the hotel.

Pleakley did that a lot; every time an awkward situation arose, he just changed the topic and pretended to be interested in something else entirely. At this point, the way the green alien was avoiding the subject, Jumba knew without a doubt that Pleakley wasn’t what humans called “heterosexual,” and was really scared to even hint so to others. Not that Jumba cared; he found that pretty adorable. But it was a shame Pleakley was so against the idea; it was probably a taboo on his planet or something. How idiotic.

When the night came, both aliens lay silently on the same bed, not sharing more than a faint “Goodnight” to each other. Usually, Jumba was quick to fall asleep, but that night was the first time since he had arrived on Earth that he found it very hard to find the will to rest. He was curled up on his side, trying not to take up all the space, looking at the wall for what felt like hours. Why couldn’t he sleep? Did it have to do with the warm presence he could feel on his back?

Jumba guessed Pleakley had been sleeping for a while, if his relaxed respiration was any sign. The scientist presumed his friend was too tired to have a panic attack over something so obviously tiny and insignificant as the bed. Jumba thought he should like that, as Pleakley’s meltdowns could be pretty annoying, but right now, he wished the slim alien were awake and talking about something. Anything. Even those stupid fashion articles.

It was just… Pleakley was so close to him. Jumba never had problems keeping his lust in check, but he’d had no companionship to share a single touch with for far more than a year. Of course, he took care of himself just fine, but it was boring, safe, without any risk. And meanwhile, that stupid Plorgonarian walked around with his stupidly cute smile and his even more stupid lack of pants and that warm, warm skin that was so different from his own. What did Pleakley have between those three legs, anyway? Not a dick, that was for sure. How the hell did his species reproduce? Jumba thought he should do some research on that later, just for… scientific purposes. But for now, if only he could manage to stop thinking about Pleakley, that would be great.

Kweltikwan had always been so open about relationships. Jumba didn’t even know there was a word for being attracted to one specific gender (or more) before leaving the planet, or that other cultures considered one orientation more valid than others. Even stranger was how some societies had a link between sex and love that was (in his opinion) completely fabricated. Jumba had never cared much for any of the people he had sex with over the years, and although lust had been part of his marriage, it felt like a completely separate phenomena from the love he had once felt towards his wife. Pleakley was odd in that regard: a person Jumba had grown to care about, to consider a friend, and who now was somehow becoming more handsome each day. And blitznak, was he tempted to do something about it!

But that primitive planet with primitive social rules didn’t allow him to; and besides, he could wake up 626 and his little girl on the bed next to them, and Jumba didn’t want to have to explain THAT to them. Deep inside, however, there was something even stronger. Jumba was scared that if he tried something with Pleakley, the little alien would disappear from his life forever. It was the first relationship the scientist ever had that wasn’t dysfunctional or just plain wrong, not based on what each one expected or wanted from the other, not based on the fact that he had created the other party so the power balance was set from the beginning. Jumba liked his friend very much, too much to ruin it for a few minutes of pleasure. Not even he was that selfish.

The smell of the Plorgonarian caught his nose (Pleakley always smelled like fresh, clean clothes) and Jumba cursed inside. Why did it need to be so hard, anyway? Jumba really wanted to touch that soft skin again, just a little bit. And he was still an evil genius! Not a softie from the good side of the law. Maybe directly trying to touch Pleakley wasn’t an option, but there sure had to be an answer to his problem that allowed him to enjoy a bit of contact without offending the Plorgonarian on the process. Looking for answers was his thing, after all.

 _If evil genius is sleeping,_ Jumba thought, a mischievous grin forming on his lips, _can’t be blamed for tiny gesture._

So he closed his eyes, made the most neutral face he could, and rolled over with his hand landing just next to the slim alien, the big arm of Jumba now over the green chest. Pleakley didn’t move. Jumba delighted in the gesture, now directly in contact with his roommate. He felt the Plorgonarian’s slimy skin, his warm chest, his soft breath, the pounding of his two hearts (Plorgonarians did have two, right?). Pleakley was so delicate, yet he had such a strong influence over Jumba. The genius wished he could open his eyes and look at the pretty face of his friend, but was afraid of being caught staring, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to not stare. Pleakley made a faint sound in his sleep, and Jumba’s ears twitched.

 _Blitznak_ , Pleakley was so cute.

Lust had been what had moved Jumba at first, but it had turned so innocent so fast. That little body felt so nice by his hand, and his hearts’ beats were so relaxing…

Before he could consider anything else, Jumba was sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Trog: Moron/Asshole  
> · Blitznak: Damn it


	22. You Can Do This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: SEXUAL TENSION
> 
> Episodes featured: Yapper

When morning came, what awoke Pleakley was the sudden need for air. Jumba was holding him so tightly against his chest that the Plorgonarian couldn’t breathe at all.

“Jumba…!” he choked, desperately trying to get himself out of the death grip, or at least hoping to wake up the big alien before he asphyxiated him. “Can’t… breathe…!”

The Kweltikwanian slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times before understanding what was happening. He quickly released Pleakley, who stood on the bed, dramatically gasping for air.

“You almost choked me!” Pleakley protested. “What were you thinking?!”

“Shhhhh!” Jumba put one of his fingers on his own lips, gesturing to the bed next to them. “One-eyed one will wake up little girl.”

Pleakley quickly put his hands over his mouth, looking at the little duo and hoping his yell hadn’t affected them. Fortunately, Stitch just kicked the air a couple times with his leg and, after a soft growl, rolled over to keep sleeping. Lilo didn’t move an inch.

“Well, I’m not going back to sleep now. The alarm will go off soon anyway,” Pleakley whispered.

Being careful not to make any sound, the green alien headed to the bathroom and closed the door. Once alone, Pleakley looked at himself in the mirror and sighed deeply, a series of memories flowing back to his mind.

What had happened last night?

It felt so distant, like a fever dream. He had been so stupid. Of course if he had reserved for a married couple, the hotel would only provide one bed, but that genuinely didn’t occur to him until they entered the room. As usual, Pleakley’s first instinct was focusing his attention on something else, and he hoped Jumba had not noticed how nervous he had gotten. However, the night would eventually arrive and there was no way to avoid the situation, was there? Pleakley tried not to think much about it. It would be tough, since his feelings for Jumba were strong and hard to ignore, but it would be better to just quickly get over it.

“You can do this,” he said to himself in the mirror before going to bed, trying to gather the courage to leave the bathroom. “We’ll lay on the bed, not talk to each other at all, sleep all night, and, before you know it, it will be morning and everything will be over. It’ll be fine! You can do this.”

Pleakley felt incredibly anxious as he got into the bed, but the first part of his plan did go as he wanted. They only shared a polite “goodnight” between them, and Jumba rolled over and was probably asleep with the first five minutes. Pleakley, however, was having problems with the next step; he could not find the peace to rest. It was already taking all his willpower to stay still on the bed.

Jumba, the smart, handsome, amazing Jumba, was just next to him. Pleakley could feel his respiration. He could feel his slightly cold body, with that tough skin that was so smooth and full of bruises and memories. The strong presence of his muscles under the fat surface, his careful fingers and his precious eyes. And his mouth, with those thin lips… how would Jumba’s lips taste? Like oil and metal, like he usually smelled? Would they feel cold, too? What would kissing other parts of Jumba’s body feel like…?

Pleakley had to force himself to stop thinking because he already had instinctively crossed his legs in an attempt to stop the invasive sensation that was appearing at his bottom. That was not the moment. It never was, but especially now was NOT the moment to feel anything like that. Jumba would be disgusted with him anyway; Pleakley knew that. What he should do was remember his yoga classes and breathe.

_Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…_

It worked. Pleakley was still nervous, but controlling his respiration was helping, and he thought that if he pretended to be asleep, his body would give up and actually do so. It was working pretty well until the Plorgonarian heard Jumba rolling over and resting his hand on the other side of the bed.

Over him.

Pleakley froze entirely, his mind rushing with too many emotions to process. With a quick glance (he didn’t have the courage for more), he confirmed Jumba was sleeping and just moving because of his dreams. It was somehow a relief and a disappointment all at once, but it was the least of his problems at the moment, because everything in him was panicking hard.

The Plorgonarian managed to keep himself in place, too scared he could wake up his friend with any movement, and was very careful to be extremely gentle with his own breath.

This time, it wasn’t even that Pleakley was embarrassed Jumba could see him this close. Instead, it was a selfish desire: the need to extend that cold touch as much as he could. The soft pressure of the big arm of Jumba on his chest felt really good; the purple skin was so smooth, so different, so tough. It only hit Pleakley then that Jumba was covered with a thin, almost imperceptible layer of fuzz: tiny hairs that got glued to his own sticky skin. The Plorgonarian could feel the blood of his roommate traveling through his arm, the slower heartbeats coming from the big chest, the gentle movement Jumba did with his ears. Pleakley felt so safe there. It was so intoxicating for him that a little moan escaped his lips before he could stop it. He hoped Jumba hadn’t noticed anything.

He tried to remain awake just to enjoy more of the wonderful sensation. Every time he was sure he could move without being noticed, he scurried a few more inches towards his friend’s chest until they were almost touching. Jumba was then rhythmically snoring, and for once, that was the most relaxing sound the Plorgonarian had ever heard.

Pleakley fell asleep wishing the night would never be over.

But of course, it eventually was over. The morning had the courtesy to give him the perfect excuse to explain why was he so close to Jumba, but it had been a purely lucky shot. Pleakley thought he needed to be more careful, or otherwise, there would be too much explaining to do. Now his reflection was like a mirage of someone different, someone who, during a few hours, had been the happiest person in the galaxy.

The Plorgonarian sighed; he shouldn’t be getting his hopes up like that. It was a bad idea, and, besides, there were real things to take care of. Like his actual friendship with Jumba and the wonderful plans they had together on the beautiful Honolulu. That was the only thing he should be thinking about now, Pleakley resolved, not that silly fantasy of him being anything more than an annoying roommate to Jumba.

The trip was simply marvelous. Both aliens hiked together to the Diamond Head, attended a tour of the Iolani Palace and had a good time sightseeing around the shops and the plaza. Even when Gantu had the bad taste to appear and take too much of Jumba’s attention (and oh, how much Pleakley hated that!), they managed to have a lovely vacation. Stitch even won first place in a dog show, and even if the Plorgonarian couldn’t say he agreed with that, it made Lilo happy, and he adored her like a niece. Pleakley really wished the trip would never be over, and when it was, he made sure to take with him everything he could.

And then came the confusing realization that he “owed” money. Apparently, credit cards didn’t make everything free.

Despite her frustration, Nani helped Pleakley to clean up his mess, for which the Plorgonarian could only be grateful. They cancelled purchases, returned what was possible, and (to Pleakley’s dismay) got rid of the credit cards. The green alien still owed money, but that was something he would have to pay off using his part of the Federation income over a long, long time. It was really depressing for Pleakley, because that meant he wouldn’t have any money to buy clothes or food, and, well, he just really loved those things.

“Can you BELIEVE I have to return all this money? It’s absurd!” he protested to Jumba, looking for sympathy.

“Yes, that is how loans are working.” His roommate chuckled, barely holding his laughter in.

“Hold on; WAIT. You’re telling me all this time, you KNEW this was going to happen?” Pleakley got annoyed, and when Jumba started laughing loudly at his expense, he felt a sudden rush of anger. “That’s not nice at all, sir! I won’t be able to buy clothes for an eternity!”

“Maybe little one should have thought of that before loan?” the purple alien teased, snorting. However, when he saw Pleakley going silent and sadness replaced the anger in his eye, the scientist started to feel his amusement fading.

“I’ll miss it.” Pleakley looked at the floor, defeated. “I know you’ll mock me for it, but clothes and wigs and shoes and makeup, all those things make me happy. I’ve never been free to choose what to wear for myself, and it’s just… I’ll miss it” The green alien sighed, but corrected himself quickly; “I mean, as a disguise, of course.”

“Right, as disguise,” Jumba replied, eyes wide. He knew Pleakley was lying about that, but it was the least of his concerns. Jumba had stopped laughing entirely, and it was because he felt guilty. He felt bad. He felt his chest aching at the idea that he had hurt Pleakley, even if it was not directly and even if it was over such a silly thing.

Pleakley wanted to blame Jumba for what had happened, but he honestly couldn’t. It had been his fault for thinking he could get all that pretty stuff for nothing, even if in Plorgonar, getting stuff for nothing was actually pretty common. Pleakley missed that a little; on his planet, everyone started at roughly the same place, and although it made for a pretty inflexible system, it was also very comfortable. Sure, a few mastered the art of being extraordinary and achieving more than the average citizen (his sister Pixley was a prime example; she was the CEO of an entire galaxy), but the rest of them always at least had a pretty cushy life (if boring) they could opt for.

Here on Earth, everyone was always so concerned about bills and loans and money and things that needed to be paid back. Sometimes, it was even scary. What would happen if Pleakley couldn’t get the money to pay his credit cards? Pleakley didn’t know exactly, but judging by Nani’s reaction, it had to be something really bad. Such a stressful situation over a few bottles of shampoo. And he wasn’t getting his favorite snacks either, which felt particularly unfair, because anxiety made him hungry.

Pleakley still felt a little resentment towards his roommate, though. He really wished he could be the smart one for once. The Plorgonarian felt he was always putting so much effort into all he did, and then there was Jumba, being better at everything without trying. Sometimes he even felt jealous, but he really couldn’t get angry with his friend. If only Jumba wasn’t so damn wonderful…!

Had Pleakley paid more attention, however, he would have noticed that every few days, his loan lowered dramatically without his input. And that Jumba, for some reason, had been lacking the materials and tools that usually appeared in his lab.


	23. Now There Is No Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: DETAILED DESTRUCTIVE THOUGHTS
> 
> This chapter takes place during the movie "Lilo and Stitch 2: Stitch Have a Glitch". This timeline is exclusive to this fic, as it makes sense with the narrative.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Episodes featured: Yin-Yang

“Yin and Yang. Two very different things come together to make one good thing.”

Lilo had been right: Experiments 501 and 502 were actually compatible and did a great team together despite being opposites of each other. Jumba had assumed they would explode upon contact, but really, that was what most of his creations did, so it didn’t occur to him that their interactions would not end in destruction. Unfortunately, that meant both he and Pleakley lost their bet and had to perform the dreaded Gloknar ceremonial dance of a thousand hours together (they had to stop at 30, mostly because they were going to pass out), but it was a minor inconvenience.

At the end of the day, the balance was restored. 501 was the yin to 502’s yang, Pleakley was the yin to Jumba’s yang, and, of course, Lilo was the yin to Stitch’s yang.

Which made what the scientist discovered much sadder.

Jumba had hoped the incomplete-charge accident would remain in the past, that somehow it wouldn't catch up to his little creation’s structure. He had assumed it would disappear, fix itself maybe; or, by then, he would have the proper tools to stop it easily. Denial was not common for Jumba, but he couldn’t believe how much he had dragged it on: 626 was unstable, and he had known from the beginning. And instead of rushing to fix it, Jumba had sat back and enjoyed his new life on Earth like a complete _trog_. This was all his fault. Everything was ruined and it was his fault.

Jumba really had failed his family.

He looked at the pitiful machine in front of him. It wasn’t even of good quality; Jumba had been using his nest egg to help Pleakley with his loan and couldn’t afford a better one. The seller was shady, and the scientist could only hope it would work. At least it was something, which was miles ahead of he had to offer: Jumba had tried, he really had tried to build the chamber. But he lacked so many tools and Earth technology was so primitive…! The genius know he had no time to lose, and was feeling like a complete and utter failure.

That night, as he ordered the machine from the catalogue, it had been the first time in years that Jumba cried. Stitch was his masterpiece, sure, but after nearly two years together building happy memories, the notion of losing him felt more like they were stripping from him a part of himself he could never replace. And Jumba wasn’t able to build the only thing that could save him.

No matter how many times he dried them, tears seemed to always come back to his eyes. He couldn’t cry. Not now. His family needed him to be strong and have the answer, like he always did. It had to work. it had to.

The day Jumba noticed something was wrong started out so normal and ordinary, it felt like a distant hallucination. Pleakley was researching Earth, as usual. Nani scolded them, as usual (and told the scientist he wasn’t allowed to do more crop circles, which was a shame). Lilo was being her usual energetic self and Stitch had been dealing so much better with being an Earthling. Jumba knew his creation had been having nightmares about his past, and, in perspective, that should have already alarmed him about something being off. Instead, Jumba had been enjoying the morning in his laboratory until the little girl’s hula teacher came to pay the family a visit. And apparently, Lilo was in trouble!

“We need to intervene!” Pleakley urged as he dragged Jumba into their room. Jumba didn’t protest; he had nothing to object. He didn’t want Lilo getting in trouble either.

“Would ugly white shirt and moustache glasses be enough?” the genius asked, looking through his wardrobe. He didn’t have many clothes, but the lab coat he was wearing at the moment was definitely not the best option.

“That’ll work. Now, be honest; how do I look in this hat?” the green alien inquired with a flirty turn-around. Pleakley was already done, makeup included. Jumba always wondered how he managed to dress himself so quickly.

“It makes you look top-heavy.”

“Well, that’s not nice!” the green alien protested, annoyed. But they didn’t have time to argue. “How are we going to present ourselves? To give us some credibility, you know.”

“Hmmm…little girl calls Jumba ‘uncle’ sometimes in front of other humans,” the big alien recalled.

“That’s it! Uncle Jumba and Auntie Pleakley!” the slim alien proclaimed. “Now, let’s hurry. Lilo needs our help!”

Jumba smiled softly, thinking of his family. Would Pleakley still be his friend if the chamber didn’t work? Would Lilo hate him? Would Nani allow him to live with them? Would Stitch, on a metaphysical plane, forgive him?

It had been during movie night that Jumba realized something was happening with 626. The sudden destructive rampage of the experiment made the scientist remember the molecular problem all at once. He still had to go to the ship to confirm it, but Jumba had known immediately: Stitch’s circuits were failing, and they would eventually burn themselves to death. And judging by the advanced state of the damage, very soon. If only he had noticed earlier…

The only option was getting to work, of course. Pleakley had followed the genius, begging to be included, and as much as Jumba didn’t like to admit it, he needed Pleakley’s help. To get the chamber parts and to keep David and Nani out of his business, of course, but even more because he needed someone to be at his side.

After so many years of being alone, Jumba had gotten used to it, and enjoyed the solitude like a second skin. He never missed anything or anyone. The genius was his own best friend, his brilliant mind was enough to fill his time, and, on the rare occasions when he needed assistance with something, he could just create a new experiment and it would be done. Jumba wasn’t sure exactly when that started to change, but it did. He got accustomed to the noise, the presence of others, the option of sharing his feelings and thoughts. The scientist already know he had a family in the Pelekais, and he loved them and loved being with them.

However, Pleakley was different. Pleakley was special.

Pleakley was always there. Always. Even at first, when Jumba had been so cold and dismissive of his efforts, Pleakley kept trying to make him happy. Pleakley looked after him, always making sure he was rested, well-fed and clean. Pleakley was always ready to talk, no matter how rude or dry Jumba had been the last time; always had something nice to say and always wanted to be there to help. Pleakley listened to his ramblings, laughed at his jokes, and had unbreakable faith in anything Jumba did, which the scientist knew he didn’t deserve. Even when the Plorgonarian was quiet, not doing more than being there, that made Jumba feel better. Cared for. Pleakley always had that warm smile and that lovely kindness, and no matter how much Jumba tried to deny it to himself, it made him want to be a better person.

That was why he needed Pleakley. Because Pleakley had become the soul Jumba didn’t know he was lacking.

But the scientist needed more than support that day; he needed an operative chamber to save Stitch. And so, when the machine fell apart in front of Jumba, so did his heart.

“I didn’t build first one. I ordered it from catalogue,” he admitted to Pleakley, the pain growing in his chest. Normally, Jumba would had been too proud to admit such a failure, but he didn’t have the strength to lie or pretend anymore. He was mockery of a genius, ordering from a catalogue because he wasn’t able to save his own experiment. Jumba was devastated.

“And now there is no hope for my little creation. Jumba has failed family.”

That was it. It was over. He would not be able to build another one in such a short time, even if he wasn’t so useless. There was not enough money to try to find a replacement and there were no other options he could think of. That was it. Jumba had failed.

And worse, he had failed his family, his _ohana_. After Stitch died (and the word echoed on his mind, more painful every time), there would be no reason for any of them to stay on his side. Jumba was ready to accept whatever cruel thing Pleakley was going to say to him then, and it would be a walk in the park compared to what the sisters would say. Maybe the Council would exile him somewhere else, and maybe that was for the best. The genius’ chest hurt so much, it was hard to breathe.

It was over, and it was his fault.

“So you didn’t build the first fusion chamber. So what?”

Jumba was not ready to hear that from Pleakley. Insults, mockery, accusations, hate, or shame: he could take that. But support and compassion? It took Jumba completely off-guard.

“You still built Stitch, didn’t you?” the green alien continued, trying to cheer him up. “Well, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” the scientist replied, still confused. How could Pleakley be so kind to him after what he had done?

“And you’re still an evil genius, admit it,” his friend teased, obviously giving him a compliment. It made Jumba smile, even feel a little flushed.

“I…I don’t like to brag…” he chuckled, feeling better. Pleakley had called him an evil genius, in a positive way. That was something he could only feel happy for.

“Well, see? That’s why you are the only one who can do it!”

That was true. If there was anyone in the galaxy that could save Stitch, it was his creator. And if Pleakley had faith in him, Jumba wasn’t going to fail him. Everything would work out because he was going to fix his mistake.

Loneliness had been part of him when the only thing Jumba had cared about was causing chaos around him, when his work was all he’d had. The only way to let go of such a huge part of your life behind is finding something even bigger to replace it.

Jumba had found Pleakley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Trog: Moron/Asshole


	24. Whatever You Choose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes featured: Kixx, Splodyhead, Amnesio, Swirly

At the end of the day, everything had worked out. They had saved Stitch, and, despite it seeming to be too late for the fusion chamber to work, some kind of miracle had made him stable anyway. How that had been possible was not something Jumba had the answer to, but science was sometimes unpredictable, and that was precisely what he liked most about it. So they laughed and celebrated and danced, and for the rest of the night, everything had been just perfect. Stitch was fine. All of them were happy and there was nothing wrong they should worry about.

It was naïve and Jumba knew it, but he decided to let himself relax completely just for once. However, when the next morning came along, it was time to return to reality and face some uncomfortable truths he had realized during that incredibly stressing couple of days.

Jumba would never let denial blind him again. Never again.

First and foremost, he had to consider his own state of mind. Jumba had been stranded on Earth for close to two years now, and no matter what he had been telling himself, he had become soft. He let his guard down and allowed everybody to pass through the previously firm walls around his mind. And it had been fine at first, when there was nothing bad going on and that just meant Jumba was able to be closer to his new family and have all the support and love he had lacked during his life. But it had been foolish, extremely so; allowing the love inside meant he also allowed the pain. The doubt. The despair.

Once Jumba was faced with the possibility of losing Stitch (no, not Stitch. He was 626, an experiment, not his pet), the genius realized he had gotten too attached to him, too attached to all of his family, and now he was weak and soft for their safety. He would cry and whine and be an emotional mess if he lost any of them, and that was NOT who Doctor Jumba Jookiba was. No, Jumba was analytic and cold and always had the answer; he was strong, was laid-back and never worried about anything or anyone. Jumba had strong walls secured around himself and didn’t call his creations by some stupid cutesy name, but with numbers like the serial of experiments they were. Names only made you attached; a number or an adjective was more than enough to identify a person, and in his mind, that helped the scientist to not think about them like his equals.

Because then, he would have to admit how much he loved them, and that would only mean he would be too weak to protect them if something wrong happened. That was not the person Jumba wanted to be, and not the person his _ohana_ needed either. They needed a detached genius that could calculate solutions without silly feelings messing with his head, that could protect them if everything else failed, that kept the fears and anxiety of Pleakley and Nani away. They needed someone that could keep 626 safe.

That was the Jumba he had lost sight of at some point, and the one that needed to be restored. A brilliant mind and a durable body that worked on his burden alone.

Alone.

The word stung now like it never had, but that only made the scientist more convinced of how urgent it was to detach himself from his feelings. Maybe not to the starting point (would that even be possible?), but enough to make sure Jumba wouldn’t lose his nerve if problems arose again. The others would not mind; they were not that close to him anyway and barely knew how touched he had been by the accident. They wouldn't notice any difference.

Well, except for Pleakley.

But that was because Pleakley had to shove his nose (or antenna, whatever) in everything Jumba did. And that was the second thing he needed to think about in detail, because when the Plorgonarian had restored his hope, the genius had realized something important: he loved that Pleakley included himself in his life, because Jumba wanted him there. Not just because Pleakley was cute, not just because he was comforting, but because it made Jumba feel something he hadn’t quite experienced since before his marriage.

Love. Jumba was in love.

Pleakley surely wasn’t aware how his compassionate gesture had saved the family; Jumba had been ready to give up there and then, and even if the chamber hadn't been responsible for 626’s recovery (no one could tell for sure), the blue alien would have blasted himself onto a remote planet for good by then. By saving Jumba, Pleakley also had saved Stitch, and the whole _ohana_ altogether. And when it came to the Kweltikwanian, it was not only in the literal sense; the genius knew his confidence would have been scarred forever, and the failure would never have left his mind, dragging him into a depressive episode or even worse. It would have broken Jumba inside. And all that pain, all that despair, all that darkness looming over the scientist’s soul had been erased by Pleakley with just a few words.

The small alien knew right away what to say and how to say it to make Jumba feel better. The Kweltikwanian wondered if that was an ability he had with everyone or just with him. After all, they were especially close; he dared say they were probably best friends. And family. And now Jumba wished they could be more. Not in an I-think-you’re-cute-and-sexy way, but in an I-want-to-date-you-and-make-you-happy-forever way.

Jumba had dealt with the former just fine. This new one? Not so much.

He had screwed over all of his past relationships. All of them ended in indifference at best and pure hatred at worst, and the genius wasn’t sure if he was even able to make someone happy. Jumba didn’t want to use Pleakley as a test subject; he was just too precious. Pleakley deserved better, deserved someone that could care for him for once. The genius was aware his resolution to rebuild the walls around himself would be especially hard when it came to his roommate, but it was more important that Pleakley was safe and happy.

Besides, Jumba knew expecting anything to come from it was whimsical thinking. Pleakley’s mother had been calling him more and more, insisting her son should marry already, and of course, a woman was the only option she was going to accept. Pleakley always had an excuse, but he would run out of them eventually, and since disappointing his family was the Plorgonarian worst fear…he would cave to it sooner or later. And that was sad, because Pleakley wasn’t interested in marriage, especially with a woman.

The scientist couldn’t help but worry, and decided he should help his friend lessen his anxiety. Just a tiny bit, just enough to keep his own desire to be closer in check.

“It was feeling weird, not recognizing you,” Jumba commented while accompanying Pleakley on a walk. Earlier that day, Experiment 303 (a.k.a. Amnesio) had made both of them forget about each other for about ten minutes. The scientist was using the accident as an excuse to talk, but he wasn’t lying, either; it had felt weird.

“The strangest part is that I was convinced I knew you, but couldn’t recall when or where or how,” Pleakley replied, a little nervous. Upon regaining his memory, he had been happier than he wanted to admit to see Jumba, hugging him in a way that was maybe too affectionate for just ten minutes apart. But not only did the big alien offer no resistance, but looked equally happy and willing to return the hug for what was definitely too long.

“Have been thinking it was pretty scary,” Jumba continued. “But not as scary as 300. Even evil genius was terrified then!”

“Gosh, Spooky; almost forgot about him.” Pleakley shivered, remembering the nightmarish creature. “It WAS terrifying, I tell you that!”

“Seems so. I heard some things mother Pleakley said to you,” the other added.

Pleakley gulped, averting his gaze to the floor.

Jumba looked at him. “It seems little one has big family problems, yes?”

“Well, it’s not exactly… I don’t want to say ‘problems,’ because then it would seem like I’m complaining, and I’m not! I love them, I really do, and I want them to love me. But…” Pleakley fell silent, not quite finding the words.

“But?”

“I’ll never be enough, you know? I already struggle to do my best now, and I’m still a disappointment all around. I’m not supposed to wear dresses, or like cooking, or be emotional, or love m…” Pleakley stopped suddenly in place, silencing his voice just in time. Crap: almost said that out loud.

“Be stopping useless dance around subject,” Jumba replied calmly, although Pleakley was getting paler with every word. “Have known for long time now. Little one is attracted to men.”

“I don’t… how can you… I’m not… that’s so…!” Pleakley stuttered, trying to find some excuse. But Jumba looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he knew it would be pointless. He sighed; “You knew…?”

“Must be most obvious thing in galaxy.”

“Oh gosh, that’s…do the others know?” Pleakley panicked.

“No. Well, probably 626 is suspecting something, as he is excellent data detector. But he won’t care, as is not relevant information for evil purposes.”

“Oh…” The green alien felt relieved; that had been close. “And what do you think about it?” He ventured.

“Me? I am not caring. Pleakley is Pleakley. Still same bossy noodle with high-pitched voice.” Jumba grinned. The Plorgonarian smiled softly and looked away, and the genius couldn’t help himself from adding, “Perhaps marriage is not good for little one, same as Jumba. Annoying Plorgonar family may be all biggy-biggy about it, but Pleakley is not needing being like them.”

“That’s easy to say,” Pleakley scoffed, wiping his eye.

“What I am meaning,” Jumba added warmly, “Is that Pleakley is fine just like he is. Whatever you choose, Jumba is supporting you.”

Pleakley stopped walking altogether. The Kweltikwanian wondered if he had stepped over the line and maybe gone too far; he usually wasn’t that direct with that kind of stuff. But all considered, how he had gently pushed Pleakley away from his life and how he planned to do it more was the least he could offer, even if that made his friend mad.

What he got instead was a big hug from a sobbing Pleakley, who couldn’t find the words to thank him enough. It took Jumba off-guard, but he still complied with it for a few moments because he realized how much Pleakley had needed someone to tell him that. That he was fine and he was accepted, no matter what.

Of course, the scientist still had to tease him later, and they returned to their usual roles, but Pleakley had such a silly smile on his face for the rest of the day that made everything worth it for Jumba. The genius thought it was astonishing how much hope Pleakley made him feel.

“What if it doesn’t work?” he remembered telling him when they were rushing to save 626 weeks ago, having lost faith in his abilities completely. He had felt so hopeless then.

Pleakley had gently touched his arm and assured him, “It will.”

And that was all that Jumba could think about. That it would work, that everything would work.


	25. The Opposite of Evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: SUICIDAL IDEATION; EXPLICIT AND INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA
> 
> Episodes featured: Fibber

Pleakley was close to the biggest meltdown of his life, and anyone who knew him could confirm that was indeed a sight to see.

Everything had gone wrong. His mother’s calls had been more persistent than ever, and her plea was always the same: Pleakley had to get married soon. As her son was not finding a proper girl on his new planet, his mother had decided to arrange his marriage with the daughter of a good family she knew, and had already planned the whole wedding. For a moment, Pleakley thought that would be the end of his new life; he was not brave enough to confront his mother, nor strong enough to dismiss the criticism of his planet. He thought he would have to marry and move out, to another part of Earth, and, eventually, he was sure his mother would find a way to take him back to Plorgonar forever. Pleakley had never thought the notion of returning to the place he had called home for so many years could become so terrifying.

Lilo had an idea: if Pleakley were already engaged, then he wouldn’t be able to marry his mother’s choice. Looking back, it had been a terrible idea, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And besides, what could his family do? Come to meet his fianceé and attend the alleged wedding?

And of course, that was exactly what they did. Pleakley had never been so anxious, and even when Nani had accepted to pose as his fianceé, they were so uncomfortable around each other that the green alien wasn’t sure if his family was going to buy any of it. To make matters worse, the new little experiment Lilo and Stitch had captured and brought home (appropriately named “Fibber”) was driving everyone mad with his constant buzzing. Which was only natural, because he was a lie detector and Pleakley had never told so many lies at once in his entire life.

It was so stressful to be on the edge like that with your own family. Pleakley wished he could be enough by himself: that was all. He missed them plenty, but not like that. Not with his mother dictating to him what to do, not with Pixley looking at him with disdain and pity, not with Bertley openly stating how much he hated him. Not like that.

“Pleakley!” Lilo entered the room, finding the alien hugging a pillow. Oh, no; what else could go wrong now? “Nani’s out.”

“WHAT?” Pleakley cried, immediately starting to hyperventilate. He lowered his voice just to make sure it couldn’t reach his family in the living room. “She can’t do that! I need someone to pose as my fianceé, and Nani is the only option! And she said yes already!”

“Yeah, but it turns out your mother hired a real minister, so you would be legally married and she didn’t like that,” Lilo explained. Stitch made a dramatic imitation of what Pleakley guessed was Nani getting mad and quitting.

The alien gulped. Well, that was it. He was going to marry a stranger and leave his beloved new life forever. His anxiety had peaked so much that he was slipping into a sort of catatonic state, his mind just refusing to believe his fate.

“But it’s okay. We found someone!” Lilo assured him. Pleakley was confused. Who? There were no other adults in the house, except…

Lilo and Stitch jumped to each side of the door, pointing behind them with a smile. Stitch even made a “ _Ta-da!_ ” for emphasis, and oh boy, did the image that followed need it: Jumba appeared at the door in a white dress that was probably made of all of the sheets from Lilo’s bed (and it still wasn’t enough for his huge body), the Plorgonarian’s grandmother’s veil, and even some makeup on his face. Pleakley stood there in shock with his jaw hanging, unable to think of any word to say.

“Not very fitting, I know,” Jumba commented, tugging his dress, in a tone that was WAY too casual for someone that had just volunteered to be a wife in a fake wedding. “But was best we could do.”

It still took Pleakley a few seconds to react; “You’re in a…”

“Dress, yes. Bigger girl won’t accept binding contract, so I be one marrying you,” Jumba replied. “Unless you have better idea.”

“No… no!” Pleakley yelped, too many things in his head. It really was the only option. But he felt so dizzy, and he wasn’t even sure if he was pale or blushing, because it felt like both at the same time. “You… you really are going to get married to me just so I don’t have to go away?”

“Yes.” Jumba looked almost confused that Pleakley was putting up resistance, like it was the most normal thing to do, agreeing to marry your friend!

“Right! You need to change your clothes, too.” Lilo pointed at the green alien, who had forgotten for a moment she was there. “The ceremony is in an hour and I need to find a good music track.”

“ _Naga_ ruin it,” Stitch hissed at the Plorgonarian over his shoulder before following Lilo out of the room. Pleakley and the blue experiment didn’t get along, really, but as both loved Lilo, they remained civil to each other.

Jumba and Pleakley were left alone in the room, staring into each other’s eyes for what Pleakley realized was definitely too long. He looked away and Jumba broke the silence: something the green alien was very thankful for, because his mind was barely there. “Little girl is right. Pleakley should put on proper ceremony garments.”

“Of course, I’m going to right away, but…” the Plorgonarian mumbled. Everything was happening so fast. He needed to be sure Jumba knew what was he doing. “Are you sure you’re fine with this? It’s not a mockup; we’ll be legally married, bound by a contract. And your experience with marriage is already quite bad…”

“Look.” Jumba put on his most analytical façade. As much as he could with blush and lipstick on, anyway. “Jumba is not marrying again. Love is waste of time. Silly piece of paper doesn’t mean anything, and Pleakley needs wife to make nosy family leave. It is only solution.”

“But…”

“No more fuss, my little one-eyed one,” Jumba added, his tone getting softer. “Needs to be done for you to stay. We worry about stupid contract rules later.”

And, well, Pleakley had no ground to argue, really. Jumba was right, and he clearly knew what was he getting himself into. So after he was left alone in the room, Pleakley made his best effort to retain his composure and carefully dressed himself in the elegant tuxedo for the ceremony. His mind was still rushing with feelings, but mostly, he was confused and scared.

Scared because if his family found out the truth, Pleakley didn’t know what was he going to do, and there was a freaking lie detector in the house. And confused because Jumba had been pushing him out of his life for weeks, only to suddenly jump now at the opportunity to help his little roommate out.

It was a relief, actually; Pleakley had thought maybe he had done something wrong, or maybe Jumba had been getting tired of him. There were times, like the day they captured Amnesio, that the Kweltikwanian was more willing to return the green alien’s affection, but otherwise, he had clearly been distancing himself from everyone around him since the terrible glitch accident. It had been subtle, but Pleakley had noticed all of it: how Jumba locked himself in the laboratory more often, how he masked his worries behind a wall of humor and indifference, how he acted colder and tried to act merely as a data provider for the new experiments they faced. The two aliens barely talked to each other as they used to anymore, and that was what hurt Pleakley the most.

Still, he tried to be sympathetic; Jumba had nearly lost Stitch, and maybe that was his way of coping with his emotions. If the scientist needed some space, he deserved to have it. That was why Pleakley haven’t even tried to involve him in the marriage scheme, but Jumba had intervened on his own anyway. The Plorgonarian guessed the only explanation was that they were indeed good friends and Jumba didn’t want him to leave.

That made Pleakley so happy.

In all honesty, he wished the wedding were real, as silly as that was. And it wouldn’t hurt anyone if he pretended it was in his head, would it? Pleakley was only half-aware of how giddy was he acting, but he couldn’t help it. Even in a white sheet, Jumba was the most handsome man he had ever seen, and they were going to marry! Which was only a scheme to get his family off his back and had no romantic implications whatsoever, but still. Who could blame him for being delighted to be on the altar next to a sexy, confident, brilliant doctor with the most bone-melting voice?

It was a disaster in all ways possible. Fibber escaped the house and started buzzing at lies again (and Pleakley was not going to confess any real feelings to “Jumbina,” just in case the scientist could notice the truth in his words), the ring was at least ten times too small for the Kweltiwanian’s finger, David crashed the ceremony looking for Nani (and Jumba was, oddly enough, very annoyed with that), and then Gantu showed up, destroying everything as usual. Upon feeling the danger, Pleakley’s first instinct had been to jump into Jumba’s arms, and Jumba took him without hesitation. Pleakley kicked himself for having enjoyed being held a little too much.

Stitch sent Gantu flying away, and fortunately no one got hurt. But now Pleakley’s family knew he had been lying the whole time, and they were not happy. The Plorgonarian was already overwhelmed, and what they said to him next shattered his entire soul onto the floor like a million pieces of glass.

“I lost two days of my important work for this!” Pixley was annoyed.

“You are not fit to wear the name Wendy!” His mother was disappointed.

“I hate you!” Bertley was angry.

Pleakley was already crying by then. It was all true. He was such a big, useless failure of a son and a brother; he deserved to be hated. He shouldn’t have been born in the first place; everyone would be better off without him.

He was a mistake.

Pleakley should concede that and end his pathetic life once and for all already.

With that invasive desire clinging to him, the alien hadn’t noticed the buzzing sound that had been present in the background. It was fortunate that Lilo was there to point out for everyone: the three of them were lying. His mother, Pixley, even Bertley. And upon being caught, they felt forced to tell the truth.

Bertley was jealous of him because Pleakley was tall, handsome, and funny and had all kinds of female attention back on their home planet. Pixley thought he was creative and ambitious, and she just had been trying to impress his brother with her career.

And all his mother wanted was for all of them to be happy, even if she now realized how much pressure she had been putting on her children. And if Pleakley was happy being unmarried and living on Earth, as odd as that was, she accepted it. Of course, her son wasn’t perfect and there were a lot of details to polish, and Pleakley really needed to start dressing in more masculine clothes.

But that was it. His family loved him, after all, and they did accept him. Pleakley was not ready to tell them everything yet (especially WHY he didn’t want to get married to a woman), but it had been a huge step nonetheless. His chest fluttered with the warmest of feelings, and the relief he felt that day was simply too great to even explain. Pleakley had faced his worst fear and succeeded. He felt like crying out of pure joy.

Later, during dinner, it was easy for the green alien to joke about the disastrous evening, as he suddenly found the whole event so hilarious. Lilo and Nani were teasing him about his name and his “Casanova reputation,” and they were having such a good time. Even Stitch was acting unusually friendly towards the alien, possibly because the mood in the room was so good, it was hard not to.

Jumba remained silent.

“Can you believe my family doesn’t actually know what a bunk bed is?” Pleakley gleefully commented to his roommate that night, once they were both already in their respective beds. “I told them it was a complex ritual of trust humans were required to do with other members of the living unit, just so they wouldn’t freak out! Thank goodness they didn’t catch that lie!”

“Pleakley,” Jumba replied, distracted. His voice was absent, as his mind was on a completely different matter. “Now that mother is no longer worst fear, what is?”

“What?” Such an odd, sudden question. Pleakley didn’t know what to answer. “I don’t know. Dying painfully or something, I guess. Why do you ask?”

“I think ex-wife is no longer worst fear,” Jumba confessed softly. “I believe worst fear now is forgetting who Jumba is.”

“Oh, that’s ridiculous! You’re not going to forget something like that. You’ll always have us to remind you you’re our Uncle Jumba.”

“That is not…” The Kweltikwanian sounded annoyed. “Am evil genius!”

“What you did today was not evil. It was the opposite of evil!” Pleakley teased a bit, still radiating happiness from the day. “In fact, what you did was incredibly kind and selfless. You act all tough and rebellious, but we know how soft you truly are.”

“Am not being ‘soft’! Jumba is being most evil genius in galaxy!”

“Well, you surely don’t act like it!”

Pleakley meant it as a compliment for his friend, but if he hadn’t been so intoxicated with the joy of his own feelings, he would have noticed that the growl Jumba made to end the conversation was unmistakably angrier than usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Naga: Don't


	26. This Is Your Goodness Level

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes featured: Tank, Elastico, Sprout, Yaarp

Jumba regretted sharing his fear with Pleakley, because from his point of view, the Plorgonarian had made a mockery of it. Identity was important to the scientist; it was the only thing no one could ever steal from him. It had been his source of pride and strength throughout his life, and Pleakley had hand-waved that like it was nothing. Jumba was furious.

After all he had done! Jumba didn’t even know why he had jumped so eagerly to marry the little guy. He kept telling himself it had been the only rational approach: if Pleakley were sent away, Jumba would have to deal with all the babysitting alone. The alternative, he was sure, was not worth considering.

Jumba was not the kind to fish for validation, but Pleakley had forced him to consider some things he was now feeling very insecure about. The genius had been pacing down the hallway for a while, trying to figure out how to pose the correct question to the small human girl drawing on the floor of the living room. Finally, he decided to just be blunt.

“Little girl,” Jumba started, and Lilo looked at him. “From most evil genius you have met, how much evil is Jumba being?”

“Well, I guess you are the most evil,” the girl replied. That made Jumba puff his chest with pride, until Lilo went on. “But that’s only because I don’t know more evil geniuses. I don’t think you’re truly evil; just unique. Like Stitch!”

“WHAT! No, am…!” Jumba objected, but he was interrupted by the girl holding a piece of paper toward him. It was a crudely drawn silhouette of Jumba, almost half-filled with blue crayon from the bottom.

“See?” Lilo pointed at the figure. “This is your goodness level. I would make it higher, but you still laugh every time someone trips… or burns alive,” she commented.

“That’s being ridiculous! Evil genius doesn’t have goody-goody level!” Jumba pouted. Trying to get the point across, the alien took the door leading to the kitchen and headed towards the fridge with every intent to take all the pastrami for himself.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Nani warned him as she emptied some grocery bags on the table. “Stay away from the fridge; I need all that for dinner!”

“But…” Jumba protested. The woman looked at him menacingly and usually, that would have sufficed for the scientist to give up.

But that day, he needed a victory.

“I am adult, am stronger and am evil. Can’t stop evil from taking food,” he stated, crossing his arms and closing his eyes to make an offended face. Good, good. He was still at the top of his game.

But then he dared to open one of his back eyes to see the reaction and all his bravery crumbled. Nani was looking at him with a death glare that was even scarier than the fact that the kitchen knife was now nailed into the table, and Jumba was positive that was not something to take lightly.

So the genius ended leaving the room sheephisly, if only to keep his body in one piece. Not even he was that insane.

Now Jumba was even more upset. Not only did the Pelekais not consider him evil, but they didn’t even respect him! He was fuming on the way back to his room when he heard his laptop being used, and a quick glance revealed 626 playing a gory video game.

Jumba grinned, excited. That was it! 626 surely had to know how objectively evil he was. After all, he was Jumba’s masterpiece of destruction.

“626,” the genius said, startling the blue creature at first.

The experiment paused the game and seemed to relax upon seeing it was Jumba who was talking.

“How would you describe brilliant mind that brought you to life?” The scientist asked.

Stitch tilted his head and grinned mischievously. “ _Dinko te patooba ika fabba toobaga_!”

“HEY!” Jumba yelled, offended, as the little creature burst out laughing, rolling on his back. “I didn't teach you that!”

The scientist groaned, ready to hit back, when he noticed something else on the computer screen. “Did 626 rewrite genius’ data to install _kweesta_ computer game? Jumba is going to crush you like tiny insect, you little fluffy genetic mistake!”

The experiment just laughed and easily ducked Jumba’s attempts to catch him, blowing a raspberry at his creator as he left the room by walking on the ceiling. Jumba was left alone with a mess to clean, a computer to fix and his ego pierced. Not even 626 respected him anymore. The experiment used to at least have boundaries about his privacy, but it was clear that had died too. No one in the house thought Jumba was evil, and that really upset him.

Evil had been the genius’ main label during most of his life: the first thing he had pride in. Working on the behalf of chaos and destruction was all Jumba had known, and now being so blatantly stripped from the title was like losing sight of who he was completely.

His days of making dangerous experiments in a lonely laboratory now felt so distant, and even if he had gotten accustomed to his life on Earth, Jumba never stopped missing them. But unlike most of his creations, he didn’t have a reset button that could make everything go back to how it was before, before the scientist had realized there was more inside him he didn’t want to acknowledge. It was confusing, irritating, and, worst of all, scary.

If Jumba Jookiba wasn’t evil, then who was he?

The Kweltikwanian headed to his lab, not bothering to tidy up the room. He knew Pleakley would be absolutely mad at him, but he didn’t care anymore. When Jumba wasn’t able to properly think, he always resorted to work. Numbers didn’t understand feelings and emotions; they were exact, cold, and inalterable. Numbers were easy. On his ship, Jumba idly started looking through his unfinished plans, looking for something that could keep his mind busy for a few days.

Between too many minor ideas for formulas and improvements for small appliances, there was a folder labeled with a number: 627. Jumba had been neglecting his bioengineering research since his landing on Earth, but he still came back to it now and again, and his latest project had some progress done already. It was simply an updated version of 626: a new experiment correcting most of the flaws Jumba had observed in his masterpiece, including the molecular density that made his last creation unable to swim. The genius hadn’t even planned on actually activating the new experiment, but he needed something to keep his mind occupied.

That was his thing, after all: creating, improving, solving, fixing, overcoming. And doing evil, of course.

Yeah, that project would do the trick; working on a new experiment always put Jumba in a better mood. After the first day, he already felt much better, and although the scientist was still wondering about his place on the world, it was easier to pretend everything was fine. Even after being upset, the scientist really couldn’t bring himself to stay mad at Pleakley.

Jumba was still hurt by the Plorgonarian’s comment, but he knew his friend didn’t really have any ill intent. Pleakley was disgustingly pure, after all.

So when Pleakley wanted to go to the medieval fair, Jumba complied. When Pleakley designed a costume for his friend to wear, Jumba complied (and the green alien had the idea to make it based on a really cool human that liked beheading wives, so that made the ordeal easier). When Pleakley dragged him to a hula dance festival (twice), Jumba complied. When Pleakley asked for a fertilizer formula for his garden, Jumba took the time to make his best mix for him; and when Pleakley lost his gigantic pineapple, Jumba gently tucked him into a blanket and guided him home. Jumba tried to make the best protective gear for Pleakley to chase 613 (Yaarp) so he didn’t get injured, and got insanely worried when the Plorgonarian had stopped answering the communicator for a while (and fortunately no one noticed, but Jumba even called him as smart as himself, which was probably the most flattering thing he had ever said to anyone).

The scientist just couldn’t resist doing these little things. When it came to Pleakley, all his protective instincts seemed to kick in at once.

Jumba tried to embrace evil as he had once done, really. But it was so hard to ignore how his chest ached for the new people around him. The genius didn’t even have the courage to let Lilo activate 509, even knowing how fun it would be to spread the botanical chaos around the island. The little girl ended up activating him anyway, but it had been outside Jumba’s control. And all because he was too worried that Lilo, or anyone in his _ohana_ , could get harmed by his creation.

Part of Jumba really hated what he had become.

In that regard, 627 was a relief. A true monster, strong and vicious, made only for the sake of being more destructive than the last one. To prevent him from having the capacity to “turn good,” Jumba had even disabled the most complex procedures of the AI, which, in normal circumstances, would be a step backward in the design. This time around, though, the genius only wanted to make sure the experiment would remain as evil as the first day forever, because deep inside, he wished that were his case too.

For weeks, Jumba worked in his lab alone, refining the project every time he had time to spare. With all his frustration focused on his work, he could pretend for others that everything was just peachy.

Still, there was a voice in the back of his mind that never seemed to be pleased, and was growing louder and harder every day:

“Who is Jumba now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Dinko te patooba ika fabba toobaga!: You're a bald, fat dummy!  
> · Kweesta: Vicious


	27. Once a Villain, Always a Villain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: MENTIONED NON-CONSENT; HOMOPHOBIA; BIGOTRY
> 
> Episodes featured: 627

Jumba never had any intention to actually activate 627, but 626 had gone way too far this time. Mocking and humiliating his creator in front of their family was more than the scientist was willing to take from a creature he had designed, programmed and put together to life. If 626 thought he could act like he was smarter than Jumba, well, he was in for a rough surprise.

There were still things that could have been polished before activating the pod, but the genius was upset and decided it was enough to teach 626 a lesson. Pleakley had come to the ship to bring his friend dinner (mashed potatoes, since the slim alien knew it was his favorite food) and had accidentally discovered Jumba’s scheme. The Plorgonarian panicked, but the genius threatened him with making an experiment to poke his eye if he told anything, and that was enough for Pleakley to remain silent for a while.

At the time, Jumba didn’t think much of the incident. No one could have predicted what the events of that night would bring upon him.

627 had done exactly what he was designed to do, except he did so for the wrong allies (wasn’t that what an evil creature should do, anyway?). Jumba had missed the flaw that made the experiment too affected by humor, but it was that mistake that allowed the family to capture 627 and dehydrate him back to pod form. At least it had been interesting, and even if the scheme didn’t go as Jumba expected, everything had turned out alright.

626 had learned a lesson about humility, 627 wouldn’t be a problem anymore (and Jumba was already working on the next prototype!), everyone had to remember that the Kweltikwanian was an evil genius, and there had been no negative consequences for him whatsoever.

Or so Jumba thought, until he tried to joke with Pleakley about the day.

“I’m not talking to you!” the green alien blurted, crossing his arms.

At first, Jumba was confused. What had he done this time? It could be any silly detail, since his little friend was so dramatic. But Jumba had done nothing bad recently, except activating 627. And that had been fixed already, so why was Pleakley upset? Nothing more had happened, except perhaps…

“Is Pleakley angry because of poking-eye-experiment joke?” The scientist guessed, recalling he had been pretty harsh then. More than usual, at least.

“Well, if I was talking to you, which I’m NOT,” Pleakley replied, offended, “I would say that yes! Going around threatening people to poke their eye is absolutely not nice!”

“Ah, that was tiny little joke. You are making molehill look like mountain.”

“I am not! That was evil of you!”

“Good! Because maybe bossy noodle is forgetting I AM EVIL!” Jumba barked. At that point, both were screaming.

“SORRY for thinking you were better than THAT! I should have known that once a villain, always a villain!”

“Why Pleakley has to be so dramatic about everything! If you used nagging energy on studies, maybe one-eye wouldn’t be such BAD planet expert!”

“HOW DARE YOU!” That was it. Pleakley was now truly angry. “At least I use my brain on something productive! Not like you and your useless monsters! Look at me; I’m Jumba and I think I’m so smart because I can connect some chromosomes together, but I don’t know how to cook my own dinner!”

“Ooooh, and YOU know? All Pleakley’s food is nasty, hate to tell you!” Jumba was enraged, and wasn’t thinking properly anymore. “Actually, LOVE to tell you how nasty one-eye food is being! And even disgusting burned mess you make is better than stupid female disguise Pleakley wears all time!”

“Don’t you DARE go there, sir!”

“Or what? Little noodle is going to hit me like scared girl? Admit Pleakley wears dresses because he is a SISSY!”

Looking at how Pleakley gasped at the accusation, Jumba regretted his words for a second. But everything was happening so fast that before he could process feeling guilt, anger had filled the genius again.

“THAT’S IT!” The green alien shrieked, furious. “You’re sleeping on the ship until you apologize!”

“Ah, little one can’t force me to leave room!”

“Watch me!”

From where the strength for what happened next came, no one could tell, but Jumba suddenly found himself outside the room with his computer and pajamas in his arms and the door slamming behind him. Rage was running through the scientist, making his blood boil, and the only thing he could think about was punching a wall until it shattered to pieces.

“Pleakley can’t kick Jumba out because AM ONE LEAVING!”

Growling, Jumba headed to the spaceship, mentally cursing every time he had let himself be charmed by his big-eyed friend. He was now convinced Pleakley had been using him all this time, but at the end of the day, the Plorgonarian saw Jumba exactly as he had the first time they’d met: a monster.

And if Pleakley thought he was a monster, then Jumba would show him what a monster was.

He would find the best way to hurt the Plorgonarian, to hurt everybody, and this time, there would be no useless feelings stopping him. Jumba would be as chaotic and evil and mean as he wanted. He cursed how he had lost that in the first place.

Frantically, he entered his lab and threw the computer and clothes onto a chair, not caring if something broke in the process. Once at his table, Jumba went through all his prototypes, formulas and concepts, looking for something that could truly make Pleakley miserable. As he hastily examined the drawers, the scientist knocked over a small vial that he saved from hitting the floor at the last second. Curious, he looked at the label.

“254 Odor Formula.”

A wicked smile formed on Jumba’s lips.

During the next week, the scientist didn’t leave the ship once. Not only had he locked himself in the laboratory, but judging by the lights, Jumba hadn’t slept a single night either. Nani was worried because she hadn’t seen the big alien in days and Pleakley refused to tell anyone what happened, instead getting obsessed with cleaning the same rooms over and over again until there were no more supplies to use.

Pleakley kept bringing food to Jumba every single day despite their argument, but in his own passive-aggressive way; the green alien only chose the hardest, most difficult things to chew that he could cook. The Plorgonarian also made a point of nagging Jumba to apologize during the entirety of each visit, and didn't really realize how much worse that was making the situation between them. Maybe some distance could have been good for them to think, but instead, they were getting more upset every day, and neither was willing to cave in.

Jumba’s brain knew that was a sunk-cost fallacy. Jumba’s ego was too hurt to care.

There were seven days of uninterrupted work: not a single hour of sleep. For the chemical mix the scientist was creating, he had used components of 323, the love bird experiment; 303, the mind-eraser experiment; and 383, the hypnotizing experiment; and, of course, 254’s stink secretion. He also took some of his old aphrodisiac formula that hadn’t been used in a good decade.

If he got the combination just right, Jumba would have on his hands a powerful solution that would not only act as an aphrodisiac for Plorgonarians, but would leave Pleakley in such a suggestible state that he would obey any order directed at him. And the next morning, every trace of memory of it would vanish, allowing Jumba to repeat it as many times he wanted.

It was brilliant and deliciously evil. Since Pleakley was so convinced Jumba was a monster, that was exactly what he would get. And then the blackmail possibilities would be endless, not even accounting for the potential for a human variation that could cause absolute chaos over all the island!

The scientist had to inform himself of how Plorgonarian sex anatomy worked first, of course. He was amazed to discover how different they were, biologically speaking: not only two tongues, but two uvulas, two hearts, and no skeleton. Their body was hold in place by muscles and nerves, all connected to a long, sensitive one that went all the way up through the back like a spine (not that Jumba CARED where Pleakley’s body was sensitive, of course). The scientist’s assumption about the lack of a dick was accurate, but it was still quite curious to learn his roommate had a genital papilla akin to fishes, considering Plorgonarians were definitely NOT aquatic (but hey, Kweltikwanians were semi-aquatic and it was pretty useless on a planet where nearly all water was under a thick layer of ice, so whatever). Both sexes had internal gonads: a shorter and studier tube for females and their ovaries, and a longer and more flexible one for males and their testes. Fertilization was made in water outside the body, and they always had about two to eight babies at once, which to Jumba sounded terrifying. He wondered if his own sex anatomy would look so weird from the outside too.

It was at least easier for him to understand. Male Kweltikwanians had a penis, which, as far as Jumba knew, was pretty close to what humans had. Unlike humans, though, his species retracted theirs entirely into a sheath when it was not being used, and lacked any foreskin on the organ itself. That made the penis smooth, soft, and kind of viscous, but no less harder than that of any other race. Testicles were also mainly internal, barely bulging against the skin under the organ and protected by the sheath. Female Kweltikwanians were a little more complex: a vagina and a uterus where they carried their offspring (almost never more than one) for eleven months, and only three heat periods a year when they could get pregnant at all. Oh, and large breasts, since the newborns needed maternal milk for a while before being able to absorb their own nutrients. Not what Jumba liked about boobs precisely, but it was the reason why they were there.

The computer beeped and Jumba focused again on his equations, scanning the results on the green screen. It worked; he had gotten the combination right! Now it only needed to be mixed. Everything was ready to unleash his revenge upon the stupid face of Pleakley and remind everyone who Doctor Jumba Jookiba was.

Jumba hadn’t slept in days and anger was the only thing keeping him awake at that point. With a broken laugh, the scientist put aside all the materials on the table to work on his final mix.

He didn’t notice the black galaxy shirt that had ended up buried under the rest of his work.


	28. Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: THIS CHAPTER WILL DEAL VERY IN DETAIL WITH DUBIOUS CONSENT AND NON-CONSENT IN A SEXUAL SETTING. HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING FOR RAPE TOPIC. PLEASE PROCEED UNDER YOUR OWN DISCRETION.
> 
> Episodes featured: 627

After a much-needed shower and tidying up the lab a little, Jumba only needed to set the trap and wait for Pleakley to come with dinner, as he did every night.

The Kweltikwanian took a bag of mixed nuts and spread its contents on a small tray. It didn’t look especially appealing, but it would work; Pleakley was weak for any kind of snack. Carefully, Jumba poured his new invention over the food until it was completely soaked, and waited a few minutes. The mixed nuts absorbed the liquid, and besides a faint smell (that the Plorgonarian would for sure find delicious), no one could had tell they had been altered. Now the scientist only needed to wait.

Jumba was far more nervous than he expected, but he thought it was probably the rush of testing a new formula and seeing if it worked. Somewhere inside, he knew it was not that, but he was so tired and so determined to be right that there was simply no time to consider other (obviously impossible) alternatives.

Pleakley was running late and Jumba was getting impatient, looking at the door every few seconds. Perhaps he was going too far…?

“Look who’s still HERE,” Pleakley shrieked entering the lab, starting with the same nagging he had used the last six days.

Just like that, all Jumba’s doubts disappeared, replaced by sheer annoyance.

“I suppose I would ALSO prefer this horrible place instead of my bed if I had an ego as big as YOURS!” The green alien accused.

Swallowing his words was truly an act of self-control for the scientist. Taking a deep breath, he looked at Pleakley and put on his most convincing innocent smile (which was, true to be told, not innocent at all). The Plorgonarian left a dish of crunchy leftovers on the table, and Jumba had to physically hold himself from showing his disgust.

“Not that I was expecting better,” Pleakley went on. “But it turns out you can’t APOLOGIZE already so we can make up and go back to…”

“Actually,” Jumba interrupted. “Had been thinking about such things. I am admitting could have been…” It got stuck on his throat, but the scientist forced the words out. “...my fault.”

“Oh, so y…wait, what?” The slim alien blinked, surprised. He didn’t expect that of all his ramblings, that would be the one to make Jumba apologize. “Do you?”

“Yes. Evil genius miscalculation. Oopsie-dopsie!” The Kweltikwanian pursed his lips.

It was hard for Jumba to keep up appearances; he wasn’t sorry at all. With a clumsy gesture, he took the tray with the drugged nuts and offered them to his roommate.

“On home planet, is custom, yes?” the purple alien added. “Loser part is offering apology snack to winner. Like winning prize.”

“Really…?” Pleakley wasn’t completely convinced by the food being held in front of him. He had never heard of that custom.

“If Pleakley is rejecting prize, evil genius being correct would be assumed,” Jumba pressed.

“Oh, no, no, I’ll eat it!” Pleakley wasn’t used to winning, and the pleasant feeling was too tempting for him to let the opportunity escape. He ate one of the nuts, and savored the tasty snack. “Hey, this is really good.”

The Plorgonarian took two, three, a handful; and soon, more than half the tray was empty. Jumba grinned, his gaze fixed on the small alien. After returning the tray to its place, the scientist held his breath, expecting a reaction.

“Is Pleakley feeling something different?” The Kweltikwanian asked, too impatient to wait. Pleakley looked normal so far.

“Different? Well, I see you managed to not burn this place down, so I’m at least surprised,” the green alien replied sassily. “I say that because you’re like an bull in a china shop, by the way. But since you took the time to apologize, I will forget about it and… and… aaaaand… aaaaah….”

It was fairly quick. Pleakley’s eye dilated; he lost track of his words and started gently swaying back and forth, a silly smile on his face. His expression was so satisfied that it seemed the world could end at that exact moment and the slim alien wouldn’t have cared a bit. Jumba approached him with an evil smile. Did it work?

“Pleakley?” The scientist tried.

“That’s me…” The Plorgonarian giggled, like it was such a funny idea. He was completely gone.

“How are you feeling?”

“I feel… nice, and relaxed and… hot,” Pleakley replied, his gaze fully lost.

“It is working!” Jumba exclaimed, cracking an evil laugh. But it didn’t last long.

The big alien found himself surprised at the success. It’s not that he hadn’t taken the project seriously, but Jumba had never actually planned exactly what would he do once it had worked. It had purely been a “fuck you” to Pleakley and all his stupid rules: a revenge scheme, an act of rebellion. But now that he had gotten what he wanted and the drug was doing exactly what it was designed to do, there was something bothering him in the back of his mind.

But why? It had worked! Jumba could do whatever he pleased with Pleakley for the rest of the night and the Plorgonarian would forget about everything by the next morning. It was brilliant! A flawless plan!

Why did he feel so bad, then?

It took Jumba a minute to notice Pleakley was staring at him with a dreamy smile, like the Kweltikwanian was the most precious work of art in the entire galaxy.

“Has anyone told you…” the green alien said, slightly dragging his words out, “...how incredibly handsome you are?”

Jumba blinked. Of course the aphrodisiac part of the formula would have that effect; it wasn’t something that Pleakley actually thought. Even if Jumba realized he wished it was, and, well, it was really nice to hear anyway…

“Uh… thanks…” the scientist mumbled, surprised at how nervous he was getting. He had caused this situation; how come he now felt so anxious? Maybe it was just how adoringly Pleakley was looking at him, or maybe…

Before Jumba could consider more, the green alien practically jumped at him with his arms extended, embracing him in a tight hug. The movement was so sudden and so unexpectedly strong that Jumba fell backward and found himself sitting on the floor, against one of the walls. Panicked, he tried to remove Pleakley from above him.

But a wave of pleasure stopped his arms in the air.

Pleakley had started nibbling Jumba’s neck gently, pressing his two tongues against the cold skin and humming with his warm lips on the surrounding area. If that wasn’t enough for the scientist to melt (and it absolutely was), Pleakley was also rubbing the back of his neck with circular, caressing touches that felt way too good to ignore. The only thing Jumba was able to do was moan softly, his arms slowly falling back to his sides as he gradually succumbed to the pleasure.

He had waited for so long, he wanted this for so long…

Pleakley’s warm touch was mesmerizing, and Jumba could feel every inch of his small body against him. The scientist was getting so hot, his dick starting to get out of its sheath, his whole body trembling at just those few kisses. When the Plorgonarian started touching his roommate’s chest, caressing the naked area beneath the unfitted shirt, Jumba’s four eyes rolled back in pure bliss. _Blitznak_ , that felt wonderful, just wonderful.

The scientist’s mind was completely blank when the hot pressure’s of Pleakley lips touched one of his ears.

The sound Jumba made wasn’t quite a moan, but a muffled whimper. Minus the genital area, there was nothing as sensitive on a Kweltikwanian’s body as their ears. There were so many nerve endings there that it was near impossible to reach them all at once, but surely Pleakley’s two tongues were doing the closest thing. Jumba’s body started vibrating: a low frequency humans could only describe as purring, which, when it came the the scientist’s species, meant he was far gone with pleasure.

What was crossing Jumba’s mind at that point seemed to be everything and nothing at the same time. He had wanted this since the first time he met Pleakley, but it hadn’t hit him before how desperate he was for the affection. It wasn’t exactly the pleasure that he sought (as amazing as that was), but the prolonged touch of his small partner, the soft and gentle way he was caressing his chest, his neck, his ears. Jumba had been so used to rough sex that he was convinced it was the only thing that turned him on, and now… oh, how wrong had he been. The soft, loving, caring contact of the green skin felt better, much better than the Kweltikwanian could imagine was possible.

As Pleakley kissed his earlobe, Jumba only wished the tender gesture could go on forever, completely unconcerned by the full erection that was already pressing on his pants by then. It was just wonderful. Pleakley was just wonderful.

“Oh, Pleakley…” he whined, melting away with the touch. The green alien’s hand was touching lower and lower and all blood had left Jumba’s brain for good. “Pleakley… Pleakley… PLEAKLEY!”

The last one was not a moan.

The last one was utter panic.

Jumba reached at the small body by the shoulders and abruptly pulled it from his own, stopping Pleakley before he had a chance to go further. The scientist was panting, but it had nothing to do with his body at that moment. He had stopped purring and an absolutely terrified expression was the only thing visible on his face.

The Kweltikwanian’s eyes had been everywhere during those few blissful moments, not focusing in anything in particular. Only half-conscious, Jumba had seen a glimpse of black on a familiar piece of fabric, and it was only then that it hit him, cold and hard as a bucket of icy water, what was he going to do.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t.

Not like this.

Pleakley could have been the worst person in the entire galaxy and still he wouldn’t deserve that. No one did. And if it wasn’t justified for a bad person, how could it be for Pleakley? Pure, innocent, tender, kind Pleakley.

Wonderful little Pleakley, even when Jumba never deserved him.

And he was going to hurt him! What was he thinking?

“Are we stopping…?” The green alien asked, the same silly smile on his face. There was a ring of disappointment in his voice, but he was clearly willing to follow other instructions.

“Pleakley, am sorry,” Jumba muttered, knowing well that his words couldn’t reach the other yet. He rose to his feet, tears threatening to wet his eyes. “We are stopping. Now is time to be sleeping.”

The Plorgonarian didn’t offer any resistance. He let himself to be guided back to their room and followed his roommate’s instructions to put on pajamas and go to bed. Jumba tried not to touch him, still horrified by what had almost happened.

Wonderful little Pleakley, even when Jumba was just a _kaphong_.

The scientist couldn’t even stand to be in the same room. He decided to pass the rest of the night in his lab, destroying everything related to his last creation to the last molecule.

It wouldn’t be for long, though. There was something very important he had to do the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Blitznak: Damn it  
> · Kaphong: Monster


	29. Are You Fine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes featured: 627

The golden light of the morning bathed the room and the warm presence of the sun dusted over Pleakley’s face like an invitation for a beautiful new day. The feeling was so pleasant that the alien dawdled in the same posture for several minutes before even opening his eye, enjoying the soft embrace of the sheets.

Pleakley stretched his arms and yawned, wondering when exactly had he gone to bed the night before. He felt a little dizzy, and guessed he had probably felt ill after seeing Jumba and had decided to go to sleep, and simply didn’t remember. Speaking of which, there was no snoring to be heard, and the top bunk looked suspiciously light…

The Plorgonarian looked at the clock and his hearts skipped a beat. THAT late? It was almost three hours past the time when he usually woke up. He jumped out of bed, questioning how the heck had he overslept so much and, most importantly, how no one had come to wake him. As he suspected, Jumba was nowhere to be seen.

“ _Ohufi_ ,” Stitch greeted once Pleakley entered the kitchen.

The experiment was busy writing something on a piece of paper and the green alien didn’t care enough to ask. He knew the rest probably had eaten breakfast hours ago, and he felt too embarrassed to try to make something for himself at that point. He could wait until lunch.

“Good morning. Where are the others?” Pleakley asked, knowing Stitch didn’t like small talk.

“Nani work, Lilo school.”

“And Jumba?”

Stitch shrugged.

Pleakley looked at the pile of dirty dishes in the sink and decided it would be a good starting point for his day. He hated washing dishes, so the sooner that was done, the better. If the rest of the house was clean enough, maybe he could have a great day studying the latest (and juiciest!) reality shows on TV.

“Gosh, it’s late!” The Plorgonarian commented, idly scrubbing through the dishes. “Why did no one wake me up?”

“Jumba said not to,” Stitch replied, illustrating his calculations with drawings of ships.

“He did?” Well, that was strange. Why would Jumba do that? “Well, I have a very busy schedule today, so I would appreciate if you stay here with your drawings, please.”

“ _Ih_!” The little creature confirmed, having no other plans.

But when Pleakley was done at the sink and ready to leave the room, the blue experiment felt conflicted about something. After debating with himself for a few seconds, he reached one of his paws towards the other alien, worry in his voice, “Pleakley!”

“Yes?” The Plorgonarian stopped and turned around, surprised by the tone.

Stitch seemed to be pondering what words to use. “ _Ashi salaam_?” He asked, in a tone that could only be described as concerned.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“ _Gatchi nosty_?”

The green alien needed a few seconds to mentally translate that. “Yes, I’m sure I’m fine,” he assured, very confused. “What’s this sudden interest in my well-being? Are YOU fine?”

“ _Emba-chua_ …” Stitch quietly returned to his papers, and, not sure what that meant, Pleakley decided to just leave the room.

It had been a weird chat, but what about a blue koala experiment wasn’t weird? Pleakley thought maybe Jumba had said to the others he was ill in order to prank him. After all, it had to be hard for the scientist to admit he was wrong. Even if being the winner for once felt amazing, Pleakley also felt guilty; he had screamed at Jumba too, and his words had been less than nice. Now that he had gotten what he thought he wanted all along (an apology), he felt like he owed one back too.

It was only fair, and, besides, Pleakley realized now that he had been acting like a prick, with the constant nagging and dismissing Jumba’s feelings he had done. Yeah, he really owed an apology, and a big one.

The biggest reason was, of course, that Pleakley really wanted his friend back. The week without Jumba had felt empty and lonely, and the slim alien had missed absolutely everything about him: his laugh, his jokes, his sarcasm, his enthusiasm, his hugs, his snoring, even his smell. Pleakley had even secretly taken one of Jumba’s shirts to sleep with, if only to comfort himself with the familiar scent. He really missed Jumba; he missed him so much. And Jumba had to miss him too, or otherwise he would have never swallowed his pride to apologize as he had, Pleakley was sure.

The Plorgonarian resolved he should cook mashed potatoes that night for his roommate as a peace offering, and he should go to the ship and apologize, too, both for the argument and for the nagging. Knowing Jumba, though, if he were alone without anyone to instruct him to sleep at normal times, he had probably passed the night awake and was now still in bed, so Pleakley had until the afternoon to think on his words carefully.

The following hours were pretty innocuous. After making sure everything in the house was done, Pleakley had sat in the living room and enjoyed his favorite kind of research on humans: watching TV. He got so caught up in it (despite his initial intention to stop after lunch) that the alien was still there when Lilo opened the front door hours later.

“I’m home!” the little girl announced, and Stitch jumped into her arms almost immediately.

“Lilo, hello there!” Pleakley greeted with a smile. “Did you know some humans compete to determine which one is the best at cooking AND sabotaging others at the same time? It’s fascinating.”

“Yeah, Nani watch it sometimes if she’s bored,” Lilo replied, leaving her bag and patting Stitch on the head. “You look very happy,” she commented gingerly.

“Well, of course! Why wouldn’t I?”

“You know, I thought…” The girl hesitated. “Never mind. If you need to talk, I’ll be in my room. Come on, Stitch, you have to show me your ideas for the trip!”

“Sure.” Pleakley blinked, confused. What was with everyone today?

When Nani got home later that evening, she was met with the unmistakable smell of the Thanksgiving dinner Pleakley religiously cooked once a month, since no one had bothered to correct him about the actual frequency of it (and who could blame Nani? It was nice to have such a dinner once a month). It would have been quite ordinary if it weren’t for the fact that not enough time had passed from the last one yet, so it was too early for another. Nani thought that maybe Lilo had been messing with the alien again, maybe telling him it was actually once a week so she could have more pumpkin pie, but then, she remembered the news they had learned that morning. Maybe cooking was Pleakley’s way to cope with it.

The dinner was awkward. Pleakley had decided to apologize directly with the food, and as the Kweltikwanian was prone to being late, the green alien hadn't given a second thought about his absence, babbling incessantly about his discoveries on TV with enthusiasm. Nani, Lilo, and Stitch had been exchanging nervous looks, not knowing exactly what to say and each not wanting to be the one to bring up the topic.

“...and I never imagined you could use hairspray like that!” Pleakley finished, cheerfully serving the food. “Where’s Jumba? He’s going to miss the dinner entirely. I made a double ration of mashed potatoes for him.”

An awkward silence.

“I know it’s a little early for Thanksgiving,” the alien justified, thinking that was the reason for the odd glares he was receiving. “But since Jumba and I just made up and all, I wanted to make something special to celebrate everything is back to normal!”

“Pleakley,” Nani realized. “Didn’t Jumba tell you…?”

“Tell me what?”

“He’s leaving,” Lilo informed him, looking at her food with a somber expression. “He got a job for an evil organization. He’s going to leave tonight.”

Pleakley went pale.

That was why everyone was acting so weird. That was why they were asking him if he was fine, because they knew the Kweltikwanian was going to leave. But Jumba hadn’t told Pleakley anything, nor he had any intention to, seeing as his departure was so close. His roommate was going to leave without telling him anything.

It really made his hearts hurt. There had to be a reason Jumba was acting that way; there had to be. Jumba couldn’t just leave. Pleakley loved Jumba; he loved him like he never had loved anyone, and Jumba just couldn’t leave him behind.

Stitch muttered a muffled “Sorry…” full of sadness, and the others looked at the floor.

It seemed no one was happy with the idea, but who was going to stop the Kweltikwanian from leaving? He was a rascal that never cared about rules. Pleakley was also convinced the conditions of their exile remained the same, so Jumba was going to run away completely against the laws he had respected for years now.

But why, why? Weren’t they a good family? Wasn’t Pleakley a good friend? Was it because of their argument? Maybe he had hurt Jumba for real. What if it was all Pleakley’s fault?

The green alien’s mind was twirling and his chest was sinking, paralyzed by the terrible realization. It took Nani’s hand on his shoulder to remind him of where he was.

“We thought you knew,” Nani said softly. “We’re sorry. If we can do something to…”

“No!” That was a yell. Pleakley didn’t know why was he yelling. Or crying, for that matter. “No, this can’t be right, it… it has to be a mistake. With that terrible grammar, I’m sure he didn’t mean he was going to leave; he can’t… he’s not… it has to be a misunderstanding! I… he.. we can't...” he mumbled, stuttering syllables that eventually stopped making sense.

“So Jumba didn’t say goodbye to you?” Lilo asked, promptly interrupted by Nani making gestures at her to cut the topic immediately. “I mean, would you like to see a movie? Watching a movie always cheers me up!”

“No, no… I’m going… I’m going to talk with Jumba now,” Pleakley decided. His feet were refusing to hold his weight, but he forced himself to walk anyway.

“He said we shouldn’t interrupt him while he’s packing…” Nani tried to stop him, but she realized it would be pointless. With an understanding smile, she added, “...but I’m sure he would like to talk to you.”

“He better,” Pleakley replied, more confident.

The alien was feeling all sorts of emotions. He was sad, angry, annoyed, hurt, confused, desperate, and anxious, all at once, a big emotional mess scattered through his mind. But it was not going to get to him. He would go to the ship, talk to Jumba, and get to the bottom of what was happening, whether the other liked the idea or not. And by Lookazor, Pleakley would make Jumba think twice about leaving, no matter what it took. Even if he couldn’t stop the scientist from doing whatever he wanted, he had to try. Jumba was their family, their _ohana_. His best friend.

Because to Pleakley, the simple idea of losing Jumba hurt immensely, hurt like something was tearing him open from the inside. He was aware he was probably being selfish at that moment, but he didn’t care; it was his last chance to keep his friend at his side, and there was nothing in the world that felt more important.

Pleakley needed Jumba, and was set on fighting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Ohufi: Hi  
> · Ih: Yes  
> · Ashi salaam?: Are you fine?  
> · Gatchi nosty?: Are you sure?  
> · Emba-chua...: If you say so...


	30. I Thought We Were Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes featured: 627

The ship had never had much inside to begin with, but it still felt strangely empty. No one was in the laboratory, and everything was carefully placed in boxes and secured for a trip. Pleakley felt his hearts pounding as he approached the only room with light in it, absolutely not prepared for what he was going to do.

“Jumba…” he muttered, standing at the door.

The Kweltikwanian was hurriedly putting clothes in a new box. Upon hearing Pleakley’s voice, he stopped completely in place but didn’t turn around.

“Jumba, the others said you were leaving.” The slim alien gulped. “Tonight.”

Silence.

“It’s not my fault, isn’t it? Look, if I did something that made you upset, I’m really, really sorry. I know we were kinda on bad terms these last few days, but I never meant to actually hurt you; I could never…”

“Please,” Jumba interrupted, almost a whisper. “Go away.”

“No! I’m not going away; I’m never going away. Jumba, please, talk to me. I’m worried.”

“You should not be.” The scientist was pierced by pain. “Must leave.”

“Where? Who offered you a job? Tell me!” Pleakley pressed.

Silence.

“There’s no job…” The green alien realized. Then why did Jumba have to leave? Why, why, why? “You’re running away from… me?”

“...Yes.”

Jumba lowered his shoulders, feeling completely broken inside. His plan had been to leave before Pleakley could know, and, in case the smaller alien showed up, he had prepared a script detailing a fake job offer with a great share of cockiness. He would have maybe even thrown some insults in there, just so Pleakley would be convinced Jumba’s departure was for the best. But when the Plorgonarian actually showed up, all the plans in his head seemed to disintegrate into thin air. The pain was too much, and it was nothing compared to what he had done.

Pleakley would be safer away from him. All the _ohana_ would.

“Why? Why did I do wrong? Answer me! Look at me at least!” Pleakley was tearing up, lost and damaged.

“It is not Pleakley’s fault.”

“Then why are you leaving us? Why are you leaving ME?”

“Must leave; Jumba really must leave.”

“WHY? I thought… I thought we were friends…”

That was it: Pleakley was crying. Hearing his little one sobbing was too much for Jumba, like a kick in his stomach and his chest at the same time. He turned around out of instinct, unable to handle hearing the soft cries of his beloved partner.

“WE ARE!” Jumba yelled. Upon hearing himself, he lowered his voice immediately. He couldn’t look Pleakley in the eye. “You are. Little one is excellent friend, but not Jumba. It is best option, it is complicated…”

“Then explain it to me!” the slim alien begged. “Please.”

Jumba took a deep breath. This was going to be so hard to admit, but he had to.

“Listen,” The scientist noticed his chest so tight he could barely breathe, but forced himself to continue. “Did bad thing. Very bad thing.”

“That’s it?” Pleakley was confused. “You’re an evil genius! Since when is doing bad things is not something you take pride in?”

“No, Pleakley doesn’t understand. I did bad thing to you, and then erased any trace. It was…” Jumba panicked. “Never deserving forgiveness; must leave, must leave now.”

“No! Stop mumbling nonsense and talk to me!” Pleakley yelled. It was pretty unusual of him to be so bold, but he was feeling so lost. “There’s nothing in the world you could have done that I can’t forgive you for, you understand? Nothing!”

Pleakley tried to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, but Jumba stepped back. He had to confess. It was now or never.

“Pleakley,” the scientist said firmly, looking him in the eye, knowing well it could be the last time. “Was angry because was feeling vulnerable. Missed old self. Wanted to be evil, careless genius again. So I created drug, to be showing Jumba was still Jumba and could do anything he wanted.” His friend’s huge eye looked at him, not understanding yet. “It was containing aphrodisiac and mind-eraser. I… drugged you.”

Pleakley went pale, his mind slowly putting the pieces together. It was horrifying to even think about. “So we…?” Was all he was able to mutter.

“No! No, we did nothing,” Jumba quickly reassured him. Well, maybe a little bit, but wouldn’t that make Pleakley feel even worse? “I… I realized it was not fine, hurting you. May be sounding empty now, but Pleakley is family, and never wanting to hurt you again.” He gulped, not having the courage to look at his friend. “Am sorry, even if Jumba can never be forgiven. Now must leave, so you are safe. All of you, from me.”

It took Pleakley a few minutes to even react There was so much going on in his mind. He was sad, angry and confused; Jumba had betrayed his trust and tried to take advantage of him, but… he hadn’t? It was so emotionally overwhelming.

Jumba silently started to pack his things again, because he was at the edge of crying and didn’t want to force Pleakley to feel pity for him. He knew he didn’t deserve it.

“Jumba…” The green alien almost whispered, a knot tied in his stomach.

“Will be fine. Say to Federation Jumba planned everything by self; you will not be having blame. Pleakley can keep Jumba’s belongings if wants. Guessing they would be better in trash, though.” The Kweltikwanian sighed without looking at Pleakley.

“Jumba…”

“You can use Jumba’s wage on pretty clothes. Would be good use for money, some new wigs, and shoes, to be making Pleakley happy. Not to worry about experiments; will provide 626 with guide.”

“Jumba.”

“Please take care, my little one. You have been best friend genius could wish for. Not wanting to end like this, but…”

“Jumba Jookiba!”

The scientist froze in place, eyes wide. Pleakley had never used his full name, ever. Jumba barely had the courage to turn around and face his partner, but he was not prepared to see him approaching. Even less for what was he saying.

“You are not going to leave!” Pleakley was an emotional wreck. “I don’t care what you think is best! You are telling me you invented something that would have allowed you to go and cause ultimate chaos on the island if you wished and no one could remember a thing? That you could do whatever you wanted to anyone, to me, without facing any consequence? And after that, after all that, you just stopped and regret it because you… you like me? You want me to be safe? All of us?” He paused a moment, his gaze fixed on Jumba.

“You’re not a danger to anyone here. You’re our family, my friend. And I forgive you, of course I forgive you, because I… I...” Pleakley was so close to his partner’s face that the only thing he could focus on was Jumba’s four, beautiful eyes. “I couldn't live without you. You’re what is best, here, with me.”

And with that, Jumba felt the warm lips of Pleakley resting on his own.


	31. Not Telling Anyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: DETAILED ANXIETY ATTACK; INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA; DETAILED DESTRUCTIVE THOUGHTS
> 
> Episodes featured: 627

Time had frozen for Jumba and Pleakley, and there was nothing more in the world than each other’s lips.

Jumba had been surprised at first, even confused. Kweltikwanians didn’t kiss, not like that, but the scientist had consumed enough human and Plorgonarian media to know what it meant. Afraid that moving even a little could make Pleakley stop, Jumba was very careful to not make even the tiniest of gestures. He only allowed himself to close his eyes, focusing on the warm feeling of the kiss for what seemed like an eternity.

Pleakley was the first one to recover from the moment, slowly moving his head away as he opened his eye with a few gentle blinks. It was only when Jumba looked back at him, still dazed, that the Plorgonarian realized exactly what they had done. What HE had done.

“I’m sorry!” The slim alien mumbled, anxiety crippling into him. He took a couple steps back. “I-I don’t know why I did that, I’m s-so so sorry! I…” He tried to explain himself, but there was entirely too much and too little on his mind.

“Liked it…” Jumba stated instead, four eyes hazy and dizzy.

Pleakley couldn’t believe the statement and kept rambling, getting more and more nervous with every word. “It’s just that you were going to leave! And I… I didn’t wa-want that, I know… I know what you did was b-bad, but you can’t leave us! You c-can’t leave me!” he felt his voice cracking as his eye filled with tears. “Please don’t go, I… I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, b-but… but…”

“Why not?” The Kweltikwanian asked, still calm.

Pleakley was dumbfounded. Was Jumba kidding? It was obvious! He had just KISSED the man. On the LIPS. Jumba had to be kidding.

“I know you’re not… you’re not…” Pleakley was tearing apart, his sentences were becoming more and more incoherent. “You… I… goodness, I’m so sorry…”

“Attracted to you?” Jumba guessed. Pleakley didn’t look at him. “...to men?” he tried again.

The scientist could only assume he had hit a nerve, because the slim alien started sobbing quietly, embracing himself while tears ran wild to the cold floor. He looked so small and fragile that Jumba was scared to touch him; the Plorgonarian seemed about to shatter.

Pleakley couldn’t keep himself from crying. He had done it; he had finally blown everything. All because he was a stupid, weak, useless wimp who couldn’t keep his own actions in check. He had let his feelings take over him and now Jumba would hate him, and would tell the others his secret, and everybody would know that he was gay. His poor family didn’t deserve to deal with a failure like him; Pleakley really had earned the punishment of being shut from their life and hated forever. No one would speak to him again. Maybe he should blast himself to an isolated planet just to keep them from wasting energy thinking about pathetic, hideous Pleakley. He was a mistake, a mistake, a mistake.

And of course, he had ruined his friendship with Jumba, too, because that was the only thing he was good at: ruining everything. His friend found him disgusting, Pleakley was sure of it. Either the genius would laugh at him or spit at him, and he deserved both. And then Jumba would leave, of course he would leave, because no sane person would want to be near such a piece of garbage as Pleakley. He deserved that. He deserved everything that was going to happen, because Wendy was only good at being a failure.

Jumba looked at the pitiful figure in front of him and a huge pain started growing in his chest. The small alien was so broken, he could only mutter how sorry he was over and over again, and wasn’t reacting to anything else, sobbing like he was going to melt in tears. It was like nothing Jumba had seen before, and it physically hurt him.

He wanted to hug Pleakley, kiss him again, tell him everything was going to be fine; that Jumba was there for him. But the scientist wasn’t sure that was a good idea; it was obvious now that the ex-agent had been dealing with guilt for who knew how long, and being kissed in his vulnerable state could generate even more anxiety instead of calming him down.

Jumba had never had to comfort anyone before, but he was so desperate to ease the pain a little. Pondering the best way to act, he decided on a more direct approach.

“You’re not,” the Kweltikwanian said softly, getting closer to Pleakley, just enough that he could notice his presence.

“W-what…?”

“Disgusting. You’re not,” the bigger alien proceeded, offering him a tender look. “That’s what Pleakley was thinking, yes?”

“But…” Pleakley raised his head a little, not fully confident to look at Jumba. Was Jumba trying to comfort him? Maybe he was just setting up a prank for later.

“I am staying. Not telling anyone secret, promise,” the other continued, as soft as his voice allowed him to. “You can be calm, my little one. Everything is fine.”

“But in Plorgonar…” Pleakley tried to argue, but his voice didn’t sound convincing. The way his big friend was looking at him was so sweet…

“This is not Plorgonar.” Jumba sounded a little harsher he intended to, but this was important. “Jumba thinks Pleakley is attractive. Always thought, since first day on Earth. Not care for kiss; would like more.”

It sounded a little frivolous, maybe, but admitting the physical attraction was far easier to do than doing so with his other feelings. For Jumba, anyway.

Pleakley tried to say something, but nothing came out of him. He started sobbing again quietly, considering for the first time the possibility that all of this was real and Jumba was being genuine. He couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it, but he really wanted to.

When the bigger alien got even closer to him, the Plorgonarian just let his back rest against the big chest, too many emotions washing him away. As careful as he could manage to be, Jumba laid his big hand on the shoulder of his friend, not breaking the silence.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed, or at what point Pleakley had turned over and directly laid his face in Jumba’s embrace. Neither of them cared. Only the incessant sobbing of the Plorgonarian echoed in the room, soft but painful as a dagger.

After the small figure on his chest started mumbling inconsistencies again, the Kweltikwanian knew Pleakley was no longer there. It had been too much for his little body. Jumba softly tapped his friend shoulder, prompting that cute eye to raise at him.

“Come on,” the genius almost whispered, worried he could scare his roommate with his voice. “You need to rest.”

Pleakley didn’t say anything. His expression was lost and scared, and his eye was dilated and moving to look at things that weren’t there. It was awful for Jumba to see him that way, but the Plorgonarian wasn’t coming back anytime soon, and needed to sleep and recover from the experience.

The scientist gently guided his friend across the spaceship and into the silent house, Pleakley mumbling all the way and obeying just basic commands. After entering their room and closing the door, Jumba took the green alien to his bed, trying not to touch him too much.

“Now, my little one-eyed one, you stay here and rest,” the genius said gently, cradling Pleakley between the sheets the best he could. The Plorgonarian was still dressed, but there was not much Jumba could do about that without alarming his friend. “Good night,” he whispered before climbing the ladder to his own bed. He did not bother to change his clothes either and just stared at the ceiling, replaying the event on his mind.

Okay, what in Flaxus’ War had that been?

So Pleakley liked him? Like, in an attracted-to-him sort of way? That was certainly unexpected. Jumba was not exactly a fine specimen; he knew that. He was short, bald, fat, awkward, and obnoxious. But above all, he was a bad person. A bad person that did not deserve to be loved by anyone, least of all by Pleakley!

Of course, Jumba had noticed Pleakley liked to flutter around him, but it was not like that was special. Sure, Pleakley cooked separate dishes for him when the food was too crunchy so he didn’t have to chew, Pleakley was available for every little thing he needed, Pleakley was always looking for his approval, Pleakley stayed late on the days when he had community service just to prepare him a hot bath and a good drink at his return, Pleakley followed him around like a puppy, Pleakley’s eye seemed to sparkle every time he talked, his cute little cheeks turning so slightly pink…

_Oh._

There was so much to think about. But it was a problem for tomorrow.


	32. New Relationship Terms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA
> 
> Episodes featured: 627

“Good morning, little one.”

Pleakley slowly opened his eye and turned his head to see Jumba next to the bed with a nervous smile across his face. With a blank expression, the Plorgonarian looked at the top bunk above him again, still too overwhelmed to have a proper reaction.

“If we are not showing up to morning eating ritual, family is going to ask questions.” Jumba continued, “Can say Pleakley is being sick and needs to be left alone if…”

“No,” the green alien interrupted. “I’ll go.”

“Very good.” Jumba sighed, switching his weight between his feet awkwardly. He didn’t know how to manage this at all. “Going to put on new pink dress, maybe? Need help?”

“No,” Pleakley repeated, emotionless, as he sat on the bed. “It’s okay. I’ll change and go in a minute.”

The Kweltikwanian would have liked to stay, but he knew there was something else he had to take care of. Taking a deep breath, Jumba left the room and crossed the hall, repeating in his head the words he was going to say next. He could do this. He was a good liar. He had this.

“Beautiful morning for evil!” the scientist exclaimed, entering the kitchen with a wide smile and his arms extended to the sides.

“Jumba!” Lilo practically launched herself into the alien’s chest, and Jumba caught her in his arms out of pure instinct. He couldn’t help but giggle. The girl happily hugged her adoptive uncle as much as her short arms allowed her to. “I knew you wouldn’t leave us!”

“ _Iki boh boh_?” Stitch stood on his chair, making little excited jumps. “ _Bootifa_!”

The furry experiment hopped to his creator’s arms to join the hug, and, for a moment, Jumba felt his heart sinking. He loved Stitch dearly, but getting close to him still triggered in the scientist the terrible memory of his death and the unbearable guilt he felt. Even if Jumba didn’t have the strength nor the will to push Stitch away, it took a sharp breath for him to remind himself his experiment still loved him back. A hug: that, Jumba could manage at least. A hug, he could allow himself.

Nani turned around and smiled, watching the three members of the family almost snuggling. “What happened to the job?” She asked.

“Evil organization wanted Jumba to follow their rules,” the alien lied, as confidently and smugly as he could manage. “Told them Doctor Jookiba is genius and is not following silly goody-goody regulations!”

“You refused a job because you wouldn’t be able to do what you wanted?” Nani smirked, unable to suppress a giggle. “You are a lost cause.”

“Way to go, Jumba!” Lilo complimented him, beaming.

With all the excitement around Jumba, Pleakley had been able to sneak into the room and was quietly serving himself some cereal. The Kweltikwanian kept an eye on him while distracting the rest the best he could with the tale of his fake argument with some trog at the supposed evil organization. Even if the slim alien wasn’t as absent-minded as he had been last night, the act he was putting on was barely convincing, so Jumba tried to make sure no one was paying attention to him.

Unfortunately for them, Lilo still noticed. Pleakley hadn’t said a word for all the meal and Jumba had been telling contradictory information, so when the alien duo finally left the kitchen, Lilo was already convinced something was off.

“They’re acting weird,” she commented to Stitch, looking at the door. “You should go and find what’s wrong with them. Maybe they need help!”

“ _Accata_!” The blue experiment saluted, ready to obey the command.

Stitch left the kitchen, sniffing the air to detect the scent of Jumba and Pleakley. They were still in the house, but oddly enough for the usually loud duo, Stitch was not able to pick up any sound from them. He hid in the ceiling and waited, and sure enough, soon, he was able to see Jumba leaving the house and heading to the ship, followed by Pleakley a few minutes afterward.

The experiment snuck inside the spaceship through the ventilation system, effortlessly walking along the inside of the wall until he caught something that finally resembled a conversation. Getting into the hall, Stitch perked his ears, following the sound to one of the bedrooms.

“...need to be snapping out of it,” a deep voice was saying. Stitch recognized Jumba as the one talking. “True, we kissed. No big deal.”

“No big deal? We KISSED!” a high-pitched shriek that no doubt belonged to Pleakley replied. “HOW IS THAT NOT A BIG DEAL?”

“Be calm; is tiny secret. No one knows. But if one-eyed one acts like this, they - ”

“ _Goocha_!”

Jumba and Pleakley froze in place, slowly turning to the door where the voice had come from. Stitch was there, raising an eyebrow at them while tilting his head. As soon as the initial shock wore off, the first reaction from Pleakley was predictable: he started panicking.

“Oh no, he knows! And now everyone will know! I should’ve panicked earlier; this is TERRIBLE!” The Plorgorarian freaked out, screaming and running in circles behind Jumba.

“626.” The scientist, on the other hand, kept his cool. He sounded cautious and collected, addressing his creation directly; “Pleakley and evil genius have been discussing new relationship terms.” Jumba considered lying, but he knew Stitch was far too intelligent to fall for that. “Pleakley is… _boojiboo_. More or less.”

“ _Boojiboo_?” Stitch stuck his tongue out, looking at the green alien still having a meltdown in the background. Jumba noticed his gaze.

“Could you…?” the Kweltikwanian asked the experiment, gesturing toward Pleakley.

Quickly following the command, Stitch walked across the wall to a nearby jar full of water and threw all the liquid directly at the green alien’s face, making him stop.

“Thanks,” the slim alien groaned, now calmer. However, he was soon worried again; “You will keep the secret, won’t you…?”

“Stitch don’t like secrets!” the blue creature hissed.

“Oooh, but if 626 doesn’t keep secret…” Jumba took Pleakley’s hands dramatically and grinned mischievously. “We will have to act like this all time!” He started making mushy faces and sounds at the Plorgonarian, teasing Stitch. Pleakley yelped, at the edge at having another meltdown for a quite different reason.

“ _Icky_!” The experiment made a disgusted face as he dismissed the image, shaking his paws. “Mushy-gushy! Ugh!” Coming back to all fours, he ran away from the scene, growling between his sharp teeth.

Jumba immediately stopped the pretending and smiled proudly with his hands on his hips. Pleakley gulped. A part of him (one he was trying to ignore) kind of wanted Jumba to keep holding his hands.

“Can we trust him?” the green alien asked, nervous.

“Absolutely! 626 is evil creation, but very loyal, yes?” the scientist assured, sounding so confident that was hard not to believe him. He and Pleakley both stood next to each other in silence for a few moments, looking at the door, until Jumba decided to play his cards. “Do it again.”

“What?” Pleakley looked at him, confused.

“The kiss. Do it again.”

“WHAT? No!” The Plorgonarian got anxious; that had come out of nowhere!

“Awww, but was first kiss Jumba had!” the genius protested. “Wanting another.”

“Wait, really? You’ve never…?” Pleakley’s words were interrupted by Jumba kissing him again. It was a very clumsy kiss that barely landed where it should and lasted only a second, but it still made Pleakley’s face burn like fire.

“Jumba! You can’t just… go ahead and kiss me whenever!” he exclaimed after recovering from the shock.

“Why not?” Jumba grinned. “Not like it?”

“I.. well...” The Plorgonarian blushed heavily, rushing to find an excuse. “It’s not that! It’s… it’s… you’re doing it wrong!”

“Then teach me,” the genius suggested.

“Excuse me?” Pleakley was overwhelmed, it was all happening so fast. Jumba was already trying to kiss him again, but this time, the Plorgonarian was too nervous to let it happen. He put his arms between them; “Hold on! Hold everything! I still have questions!”

“What kind of questions could one-eye have about this?” The purple alien chuckled.

“First of all, what’s that nonsense about your first kiss? You’ve been married!”

“Oh. Okay, I admit is good question.” Jumba gestured, trying to find the words. “On Kweltikwan, no such thing as kissing on lips. We are having big mouths and big teeth and is usually... not comfortable.”

“That makes sense…” Pleakley admitted. Still, he wasn’t satisfied; “Next question: what did you call us to Stitch? Boo… booja…?”

“ _Boojiboo_.” Jumba corrected.

“What does that mean?”

“Someone that is very close to you. Very, very close.”

“Oh, no,” Pleakley went pale. “You didn’t tell him we are DATING, didn’t you?”

“No!” Jumba instinctively lied, but soon rectified his answer. “Maybe.”

“Are you INSANE?” That was it. Pleakley was going to kill the genius. “I CAN’T date a man! I mean, I can, but I SHOULDN’T!”

“We can take… scientist approach,” Jumba suggested, trying to make the idea more appealing. “See, let’s do experiment with relationship.”

“Uh-uh! No experiments, no relationship, and NO dating!” Pleakley crossed his arms, not falling for the attempt. But predictably, curiosity won him over. “What were you thinking…?”

Jumba grinned. “If Pleakley can look me in eyes,” he almost purred, “and say ‘I wish to never kiss you again,’ Jumba would never, ever, bring topic up again. Like never happened,” the alien stated, waving his hands. He paused a second. “But if little one can’t… then has to teach me kissing ritual.”

“Are you turning this into a bet? Fine! I can do that; you should’ve chosen something harder,” Pleakley huffed, his arms still crossed, without turning around. “I’m going to do it without any problem.”

“Fair.” Jumba smirked.

“Well, that’s too bad for you, because I will do it now and we will never talk about it again.”

“Go on.”

“That was such a bad idea, you know, because it will be so EASY, and we will never kiss again, ever!”

“Am waiting.”

Pleakley opened his eye a bit to look back at Jumba over his shoulder. The Kweltikwanian was staring at him, a smug smile on his face, and Pleakley deflated visibly. Damn it, Jumba knew well he wouldn’t be able to do it.

But what could Pleakley do? Jumba wanted to kiss him, Jumba had kissed him and liked it, Jumba was somehow not disgusted by him. It could be either the shock or the fact that thousands of butterflies seemed to flutter in his chest, but the Plorgonarian knew at that moment that he had already made his decision.

And somehow, giving kissing lessons sounded more appealing than it should have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Iki boh boh?: You are staying?  
> · Bootifa: Cool  
> · Accata: Alright  
> · Goocha!: Hey!  
> · Boojiboo: Loved one  
> · Icky: Ew


	33. It Means A Lot to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA
> 
> Hey guys! You sure have noticed I slowed down a lot on the updates. Don't worry, I'm still working on it and have a lot prepared. It's just that life is being really weird right now and I'm having a hard time focusing enough to send a decent version to my beta reader (thanks again, JCMorrigan!). Hopefully everything goes back to normal soon and I promise I will not leave this fic hanging. I made numbers and, if everything fits like I want it on the end, there will be 55 chapter in total. I hope you enjoy the story and thank you so so so much for reading!
> 
> Episodes featured: Topper, Hunkahunka, Sinker

Pleakley felt pretty clumsy trying to teach someone how to kiss. It was not like he’d had that much experience himself.

It wasn’t his first kiss, either. Bertley hadn’t been lying when he had said Pleakley was a babe magnet back on their planet; he had been very successful with girls and had a couple informal girlfriends on his record, not counting all the times he had tried (and failed) to make himself straight by force. It was never for very long, nor did he ever go too far, but Pleakley knew how to kiss. However, knowing how to kiss and teaching another person how to kiss were completely different things.

At first, it had been so terribly awkward. Pleakley felt his soul leaving his body every time Jumba was remotely close, and the green alien avoided him as much as you can avoid someone you share a room with. Days went on and Jumba never brought the topic up, which somehow was even worse. Pleakley really wanted to feel relieved the Kweltikwanian seemed to have forgotten about the promise instead of the deep desire to talk about it himself because it was the only thing on his mind.

Expecting the situation to fix itself, however, was not Jumba’s style.

“Pleakley,” the purple alien commented to his roommate one night, just before climbing the ladder to his own bed. They had not talked in days, and the Plorgonarian thought his hearts were going to jump straight out of his mouth the second he heard the deep voice. “Are we still having deal?”

Pleakley said nothing.

“I see.” The scientist sounded sad, but willing to accept. “Look, not wanting little one to do anything that is not being comfortable to. But I have suspicions you DO want.”

“Yes, yes, I want!” Pleakley lowered his voice, nervous to be heard. “I mean, of course I want, I… I just… I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Practice seems like good method.” Jumba shrugged.

The Plorgonarian almost had a meltdown seeing how his big friend inclined himself over him, closing their faces together until their lips were only inches apart. However, Jumba did not kiss him, waiting patiently for Pleakley to be the one to make the move. It was such a respectful and considerate gesture from someone whose favorite hobby was blowing things up that it took Pleakley a few seconds to even be able to process what was happening.

But Jumba’s eyes were so beautiful, his smell was so nice, his skin looked so soft and he was being so gentle… Pleakley just fell into the temptation and pecked his partner’s lips once, twice, maybe five times before whispering, “We still have a deal.”

Pleakley felt like floating around more than actually living his day-to-day life. At this point, the green alien was just trying to assess all that had been happening on his mind during the last months, and there was a lot about what he had no idea what to think yet. Sometimes he wondered if he were able to forgive Jumba for what he had almost done, and in that regard, at least, he did have an answer. Now that he knew how hurt and broken his friend was feeling, Pleakley could understand the series of events that made him go to such extreme, even if it had been obviously wrong. And Jumba had realized it was a mistake before actually doing anything; he was showing more regret than he ever had in his life, and was trying so hard to do better, so Pleakley couldn't bring himself to keep that grudge against him.

Jumba did deserve a chance. He had given Pleakley one when no one else did.

Besides, even if they were full-grown adults, their new arrangement made him both feel like giddy teenagers living out their first crushes. Every time they were alone, Jumba liked to grin at Pleakley and remind him they had a deal, and as much as that made the Plorgonarian incredibly flustered, he always accepted. Sometimes on the spaceship and sometimes in their room when no one was home, they tried to kiss between giggles and innocent touches, clumsy and inexperienced as they were. Jumba was a practical learner and got the idea quickly, and as weeks went by, Pleakley found himself getting comfortable enough to sit on his friend’s lap. He just felt so safe around the big Kweltikwanian that it made his chest ache with joy.

Kissing Jumba was already good, and it became even better when the purple alien discovered he could nibble Pleakley’s lips and get some soft moans from him. The Plorgonarian was truly amazed that a creature like Jumba, who was pure muscle and brute force, was able to be so precise and gentle with his movements. Of course, many years of working with delicate pieces in his lab had granted the scientist the precision of a watchmaker, and he was enjoying using his knowledge on their little escapades.

“There’s, um… things people do with their tongues,” Pleakley mumbled once, avoiding his partner’s gaze.

After a couple months, the green alien had finally gotten to the point where he was comfortable enough to sit near Jumba without losing his nerves. However, every time he proposed a new idea of what to do while kissing, he reverted to his initial anxiety.

“I mean, tongue, in your case,” Pleakley went on. “They… how do I put this? Touch them. The tongues, with each other, not with their hands; that would be weird.”

“Am thinking that sounds messy,” Jumba replied, lightly snorting. And how much did Pleakley love his little snorts when he laughed...!

“Yeah, it does...but it’s not as bad as it sounds, I promise!” Was he pushing the scientist to agree? Pleakley was not sure and was not going to ask himself. “Just… open your mouth a little bit, okay? And don’t move.”

It did look quite ridiculous, a slim Plorgonarian awkwardly trying to French-kiss the massive mouth of a Kweltikwanian, but for them, it was beautiful. Pleakley never had enough of the cold skin of his partner, his thin lips, his careful hands, and his cute little ears. Even as badly done as the kiss was, the moment the two purple tongues of the Plorgonarian reached Jumba’s own blue one, the genius couldn’t stop himself and started purring. It was not even because of the contact (as there was barely any), but at how close they were, at how close Pleakley was.

“Are you purring…?” the green alien inquired, the faintest tone of mocking on his voice.

“Yes?” Jumba replied, a little embarrassed at first. He was quick to recover. “You don’t?”

“No, not really, our species doesn’t purr…” Pleakley replied, pausing a moment. “But I like that you do. You’re like a big kitty.”

“No teasing,” the Kweltikwanian took his friend by the shoulders. “In middle of important lesson now, yes?”

Pleakley wasn’t going to complain.

When Valentine’s Day came, they had already explored each other’s mouth a lot more than the Plorgonarian would want to admit. So far, it had been an interesting arrangement, where everything stayed the same except for some hidden kisses far away from the world. It was, after all, too much for them to take at once; Jumba was learning to care about another person almost from scratch, and Pleakley was having a hard time telling himself he was allowed this kind of relationship.

At first, the green alien had even considered several times just stopping altogether and putting an end to their friendship, but it never worked past the first thought. He hadn't felt so happy and cared for since he was a teenager. Everything that allowed him to be a little closer to his friend (boyfriend? Oh, Pleakley couldn’t even THINK of that word) was worth it.

“You know,” the Plorgonarian said once they were in the ship, cuddling in one of the beds. Pleakley was fully dressed as a geisha because the Valentine’s dance had been a few hours ago, and he was still proud one of Lilo’s friends did find him beautiful. “It’s funny you insisted a human boy couldn’t possibly have a crush on me, all considered.”

“Ah, enough words,” Jumba teased. “You are one wanting this to be secret. And female human disguise is still not convincing, no matter how Pleakley looks under it.”

“Meanie,” the Plorgonarian pouted. He bit his lip. “Do you… do you think I shouldn’t wear women’s clothes? I know I say it’s just for the disguise, but…”

“No, no, no! Please still be wearing them!” Jumba was clumsy with feelings, but he knew that was a delicate topic. “Pleakley shouldn’t care what evil genius, or anyone, thinks of fabric, anyway. Is being your body.”

“It means a lot to me to hear that.” The Plorgonarian cuddled closer to the chest of his partner, who embraced him with an arm. Jumba had not been fan of cuddles in the past, but Pleakley was warm and soft and filled him with a pleasant feeling.

“Maybe shouldn’t have laughed at crush. Let me be compensating,” the scientist replied in a playful tone.

Pleakley opened his mouth to protest, but wasn’t able to say a single word. In fact, he couldn’t have even thought of one at that moment.

Jumba had reached for his friend’s back with a finger and, knowing well where the main nerve of the body was, gently started pressing the column in a slow, circular gesture. Pleakley could only gasp, melting at the touch, his eye rolling over with pleasure. The back muscle was connected to the nerves of almost his entire being, and so Pleakley was feeling little waves of electricity traveling through him, a wonderful sensation growing in his chest. Jumba chuckled, taking the little body closer to his.

For Pleakley, it was quite literally like being in paradise. He was living on a tropical island, enjoying his passion, surrounded by people that loved and accepted him, and now was somehow cuddling with the person he’d had the biggest crush on for years. It should have been perfect, but in the back of his mind, there was still an ugly voice, an accusatory whisper, a shadow of his own self-hate repeating over and over:

“This is wrong. YOU are wrong.”

It never seemed to go away. It made Pleakley feel so self-conscious, so anxious and scared, the same way he felt back in his childhood, when being caught with lipstick on seemed like the end of the world. Things were better with his family now, but still...admitting he was gay was a mountain he did not feel ready to climb yet; it was complicated enough to accept the fact himself. And no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, that voice always lured him back into the shadows of his mind, terrifying and nasty.

“You’re wrong.”

But then was always Jumba: Jumba’s eyes, Jumba’s smile, and Jumba’s deep, tender voice.

“My little one...”

My little one.

_My little one._

How could he stop, how could he ever think of stopping, if he was Jumba’s little one?

Pleakley really loved everything that was going on between them. Pleakley really loved Jumba.


	34. Promise to Be Better Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: REFERENCED SEX
> 
> Episodes featured: Nosy, Finder, Melty, Houdini, Slushy, Dupe, Shortstuff

“Pleakley,

“When leaving for watery planet, I noticed you were awakening some new things in evil genius. Little one looked so cute and frail, it only made Jumba want to protect him for some reason. I thought maybe was being physically attracted to you and nothing more, but as we were spending time together, realized new feeling was different. As in new feeling was love, for you.”

That sounded sappy as hell. Jumba folded the paper to the side and started again.

“Pleakley,

“Since first meeting you, it was strange thing. Never been around annoying noodle before, and Pleakley was being extra annoying! But realized I didn’t hate you as much as evil genius was expecting. You’re bearable most of time, and good at intimate encounters.”

Well, now it looked like he just wanted to fuck. Again, Jumba folded the paper and started a third time, now not even bothering to add a greeting.

“I thought Jumba was not made for relationships. All that feely stuff was waste of time for self, less time to be genius if need to worry for others. But then Pleakley came into life and was like new evil plasma cannon for Jumba! With direct impingement action, adjustable sight, good effective firing range and with rimmed cartridge upon…”

Was that even about Pleakley anymore? The scientist cursed and started again.

Jumba had never been good with apologies, because it had been something he had never really bothered to do. And suddenly, he was trying to apologize to several people at once. He had sent letters to the members of his former clan admitting he had acted like an asshole and promising he would send them some gifts if they gave him another chance. That had been hard enough.

But finding the words to apologize to Pleakley with the intrusive feeling of guilt that was twisting inside him was intolerable. Jumba couldn’t really bring himself to bring the incident up even in writing, as it made him sick in a way he had never considered possible. Looking at the paper in front of him, the scientist gulped, trying to build on his head a sentence that sounded close enough to what he felt.

“Little one had always been strange to me. Could not understand why you worried so much about others, but now I understand. Jumba worries about one-eye sometimes because is looking so frail, but now realize maybe is not being a bad thing. Pleakley is most sensitive and kind person on planet and Jumba is trying to protect you because you are being most precious treasure for self.”

Kind of condescending, wasn’t it? Another one to the discarded pile.

At that point, there was more than a dozen letters for Pleakley, none of them good enough at conveying what Jumba was trying to say. The genius wanted to let his friend know that this was more than a crush and a few silly kisses, that he really loved Pleakley and was truly sorry about what had happened. But the appropriate words to tell it escaped him; his communication skills had been always been poor.

“Pleakley,

“Am realizing you are most important person to self because you are always there. Little one is kind, and loyal, and interesting, and I love spending time with you. Jumba is still being terribly sorry for being a massive _trog_ before and not treating Pleakley better. Promise to be better friend now, since you are most special person for self. What Jumba is trying to say is that he…”

The Kweltikwanian heard footsteps approaching and quickly shoved all the papers at the bottom of his nightstand. Screw that; it had been a terrible idea. Words were not his element; actions were. Jumba would come with a gift that could say what he wasn’t able to put together into phrases.

Although it took several days for him to think of something.

“Can I open my eye?” Pleakley asked, excited.

It had been a week since Jumba had shoved the letters away and forgotten about them. Now he was guiding his partner to their room with his eye closed after having promised him a surprise. Pleakley was, understandably, extremely excited with the idea.

“Just a moment.” Jumba made sure everything was ready. “Pleakley can open eye now!”

The green alien gladly obeyed, at first finding it a little confusing that nothing different seemed to be happening in their room. However, only a couple seconds passed by before several pieces of furniture started turning over, each of them revealing a series of full food stashes. Pleakley’s eye went wide and he found himself unable to close his mouth, partially because of the surprise but also partially because he was almost drooling over so many delicious treats together.

“What’s this? Did you build a hidden food stash? For me?” Pleakley asked lightly jumping on his toes due the excitement.

Jumba nodded in response, a proud smile across his face.

“These are all my favorites! How did you even…?”

“Not even best part!” the scientist interrupted. “If bigger girl is near and snacks need to be hidden, just press button here and kaboom!” Jumba made a show of pushing said button, causing the furniture to return to his original position. “And compartments are being correctly conserving for human meals, so food will not turn bad.”

“Jumba, this is amazing! I mean, I probably shouldn’t be eating all this, but it’s amazing that I can! You didn’t have to bother.”

“Pleakley likes it?” That sounded more like a beg than Jumba intended.

“I love it! Look at all these sweets; I’ll never have to have a meltdown without sugar again!” Pleakley giggled. “You’re getting good at this ‘caring about others’ thing, you know?”

“Oh, absolutely not. Completely selfish. Now Pleakley owes me a favor.”

“And you were thinking…?” The Plorgonarian realized the tone on his own voice. Damn, was he flirting? He really was getting comfortable with the situation. But it was about time; months had passed already since they had kissed for the first time.

“Am thinking little one should let me rub his back tonight. Is nice deal. Evil genius knows you like it.”

Pleakley was way too flustered to process a reply.

The back rubbing was definitely one of his favorite things about their encounters, even when more than one embarrassing moan had escaped him during them. They felt really good, and they usually came with cuddling afterwards, which was even better. Still, it was not that easy to untangle a life of denial, and it was notoriously hard for Pleakley to accept every new step they took, as small as it could be. They were going painfully slow, and even that just felt too fast. It was too much and not enough. Pleakley dreamed of more, and at the same time, it terrified him to actually get there. For him, accepting he was head over heels for Jumba was like a constant battle with himself. But what else could he do? Pleakley was happy.

Jumba didn’t have that problem; he knew he was in love and was determined to embrace it. His issue was another one entirely: he didn’t know how to show Pleakley that love, even less how to say it. And if that wasn’t enough, there was another conflict he had to deal with altogether: they were going so slow. Jumba really wanted to respect that and be fine with it (Pleakley clearly had some issues to deal with in his own head before going further), but it was taking all his restraint to do it. Everything in his body was screaming at him to get closer, to go further, to claim already what he knew would be his eventually, and he was not used to denying himself the pleasure of at least trying.

Jumba had never been attracted to someone so much. His desire was growing so strong, he needed time alone after every kissing session, and the lust was not even the worst part. No, the worst part was how the arrangement sometimes felt so detached and cold; they were just friends that shared some intimate gestures from time to time. They never acknowledged themselves as a couple, never indulged in any kind of loving activity outside of their sessions, and never brought up what they were doing as more than a deal they had made at some point.

Jumba should have been ecstatic about it: all pleasure and zero responsibilities or stupid feelings to care about. That was exactly what he would have described as his perfect relationship before, and instead, he yearned for more. He wanted to call Pleakley his _bo-niba_ in public, be able to be affectionate without the constant worry that ate his little partner alive or the guilt that consumed him. Jumba was ready to make the next step; he was sure of this being more special than anything he’d had in years and wanted to be open about it.

He didn’t even consider that option, of course; Pleakley would run away like a scared deer in the road. The only choice Jumba had was being patient and leaving his friend space to figure out his feelings at his own pace, as frustrating as that could be.

At least their life was being decently ordinary for the most part. Well, Hämsterviel had escaped prison once and the evil little redhead girl had adopted him like a pet, which was hilarious and something Jumba was very determined to rub in the face of his ex-partner if they crossed paths again. Lilo had used his time-board machine and Jumba had met a possible future version of himself that, all considered, he was glad was erased from history. The scientist discovered Pleakley liked magic despite being terrible at it; and some days later, he even made duplicates of the Plorgonarian, and thanked _huaa allah_ no one could read his mind at the moment, because what Jumba could do with four Pleakleys was very tempting (and very inappropriate).

The Kweltikwanian even laughed at his slim friend trying to act as a substitute evil genius for a day while he was doing community work. Jumba tried to tell him he was perfect for the true place he belonged, which was his attempt at a veiled “I like how you are” but ended up sounding like a mocking comment anyway. Words were hard.

It was never boring near Pleakley, though. That was what Jumba loved most about him: no matter how many times he thought he had figured his little friend out, there was always a new side, a new passion, a new ability or a new facet of his personality that he had never noticed before. It was like a research study that never ended.

And _blitznak_ , it was the kind of research Jumba wanted to do forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Trog: Moron/Asshole  
> · Bo-niba: Boyfriend  
> · Huaa allah: Lord  
> · Blitznak: Crap


	35. Playing the Marriage Part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! My brain is in "I refuse to look at anything not new" mode right now. But I hope you like it. Enjoy the fluff because we're getting back to the angst next =P
> 
> Episodes featured: Shortstuff

“Good morning, Nani.”

Nani felt the warm touch of David’s lips on her forehead and lazily opened her eyes. It was nice to wake up next to her not-boyfriend who always wished for her to have a good day, even if most of the time, that day would be filled with everything but him. David was patient and loving, which made Nani feel quite guilty, even if she knew it was not her fault. There was only so much a single woman who had been a teenager only a few years ago could do to support a wild little sister and three aliens that needed constant supervision. It was not her fault she was alone.

Well, not alone. At least David was always there for her.

Nani stretched her arms and kissed him, enjoying the pleasant feeling of being able to stay in bed for a while. Today was her day off and her schedule was clear, at least until Lilo or one of the aliens started messing around, which was a given. Until then, though, it was only David and her, his warm kisses, and his beautiful body.

It made it worse that she was not able to keep her mind off her worries.

“Is everything okay? You look like you just sucked a lemon. There’s more subtle ways to tell me to leave, you know?” David joked, making her giggle.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just…” Nani sat up in the bed, glancing away. “I know I shouldn’t worry so much, but it’s hard. Lilo and Stitch are just children, and Pleakley and Jumba act like they are.”

“Oh, I noticed one of them was not at dinner last night. What happened?” David asked, looking at her as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“David, no, it’s fine. You don’t need to hear my problems; I’m sorry I’m rambling again about them. Like you don’t do enough already…”

“You see, the thing is…” David sat at her side. “I want to hear about them.”

“Really?” Nani replied with a muffled chuckle. “You wanna hear how Lilo rode the roller coaster twelve times in a row yesterday and could barely walk straight for hours?”

“Absolutely.”

“And that Stitch found the drawer where I hide the sweet stuff and now we’re out of muffins for the next month?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“And that two fully-grown adults are having a fit like toddlers and refuse to talk to each other?”

“The most fascinating thing I heard today;” David smirked, prompting Nani to hit his shoulder in a friendly manner.

“You’re a dummy,” she chuckled.

“And proud of it. So, that’s what is bothering you now? Their fight?”

“You think I’m not upset about the muffins? Because I am.”

“Don’t try that on me, Nani. You’re avoiding the topic,” David pointed out.

“Good eye,” Nani sighed. It would be pointless to try to hide her feelings from David; he knew her way too well. “Fine, I’m upset because these two are like thirty years old or something and I’m the one caring for them. And now one is locked in the spaceship, because how can I forget there’s a freaking spaceship in my backyard, and the other is going to scrub through the furniture if he keeps cleaning obsessively. I can tell they’re upset, but they don’t talk to me!”

“But you said so yourself: they are both grown adults.” David smiled tenderly. “And you are just a young woman. A strong, smart, amazing young woman, but just one.”

“I know, but… why does everything have to be so _lolo_ all the time?” Nani let herself fell back into the pillow, hands over her face.

“Do you mind if I try to talk with your auntie?”

“Pleakley? I tried; he won’t tell you anything.”

“Not deliberately, but not for nothing do they say I’m a smooth talker.” The surfer winked at her, and Nani smiled in response.

She was going to reply when a series of screaming and loud sounds started coming from the kitchen, informing her the family was definitely awake and probably expecting them soon for breakfast.

“Alright, but don’t overdo it,” the young woman granted, waking up with a yawn. She kissed David before heading to the bathroom. “Pleakley can be a little… dramatic.”

“I never could have guessed,” the surfer replied sarcastically.

Nani didn’t take long to get ready for the day, but when she entered the kitchen barely a half hour later, David, Pleakley, Lilo, and Stitch were already there waiting. Her little sister was playing with the pancakes, making drawings over them with the syrup, which apparently Stitch found fascinating enough to not be eating his. Despite there still being plenty of untouched food on the table, Pleakley was already cooking a new batch, and it seemed he had been rambling at David for a while.

“...and you would think that’s enough to clean a sauce spot, but no! You absolutely need to scrub the area with a good liquid soap first or I assure you, sir, that the spot is not going anywhere,” the green alien stated.

“Wow, you really know what you are talking about.” David nodded, grinning. “I’m sure you have nailed down all the chores of the house like an expert!”

“Oh, well, not an expert, buuut…” Pleakley dismissed with a hand, faking humility.

“I’m sure everyone is so grateful for your efforts and understands how hard you work.”

“Tsk,” the alien scoffed. “I wish! These two troublemakers here can’t keep quiet for an hour!” He pointed at Lilo and Stitch with the spatula before continuing. “And they’re not even the worst part.”

“Really?” David pressed, keeping his smirk intact. Stitch had hissed at the previous accusation but was interested in what the surfer was trying to say; Lilo shushed him subtly.

“Oh, no!” It had worked. Pleakley was so caught in the sympathy that he wasn’t listening to himself. “Jumba is definitely the worst. I’m always cleaning his messes, and you think he thanks me? Nooooo! And when he’s playing the loner, who do you think have to bring him food, huh? And I shouldn’t, because he doesn’t deserve it after what he called me!”

“Was it that bad?”

“BAD? He said my purpose was being an ‘ugly Earth female’!” Pleakley turned around, fuming. Remembering there were children in the room, though, he bit his lips and lowered his tone. “And then he laughed at me being an official of the Galactic Alliance. I’m not forgiving him!”

“Come on, I don’t think he meant it that way. He appreciates you for sure.” David smiled.

“Do you think?”

“Totally! I can tell a friendship when I see one, I tell you!”

“Yeah… friendship…” Pleakley laughed nervously as he prayed no blush was showing on his cheeks.

Fortunately for him, David’s predictions were right, because Jumba appeared at the kitchen door like someone had just summoned him.

“Pleakley!” the big alien exclaimed as if everything was peachy between them. “You have to see new evil genius wave transmitter! Is best creation yet!”

“Oh, no! You’re not winning me over with some new… new…” Pleakley stopped, trying to decipher the words. “Wait, what does that do?”

“Is like galactic cable TV.”

“...with cable TV!” the green alien finished, his arms crossed in front of him. He tried to look offended, but he was glaring over his shoulder hesitantly.

The rest of the family looked at the odd duo in silence, trying not to laugh. Those two were like a live soap opera sometimes.

“Is Pleakley sure?” Jumba teased. “Found channel with only sappy romantic rituals…”

“Ooh, does it have ‘The Perfect Wedding’ on it?” The Plorgonarian was suddenly interested, turning around with his eye sparkling. Noticing his partner’s smirk, he tried to restrain his tone and sound indifferent, though he did a terrible job at it. “Ahem… I mean, if you reaaally think it’s that great, I guess I should take a look.”

Jumba put a hand over Pleakley’s shoulder and guided him out of the kitchen, rambling about how many evil ideas could he find on the new channels. The green alien giggled, letting his friend take him to his new invention, not aware of the four pairs of eyes that followed them outside.

“There, what did I tell you?” David laughed, making Nani sigh. “They are good again! They don’t need your help; these two just like the drama.”

“Okay, okay, I admit I worry too much,” the young woman replied. She turned to Lilo, tickling her in the sides to emphasize her point. “But it’s this little hurricane here that makes me worry all the time!”

“Don’t blame your problems on me!” Lilo squirmed giggling, barely escaping the grip of her big sister. The little girl blew her a raspberry from the hall and ran away to her room, Stitch following soon enough after eating the rest of the pancakes on his plate… and the plate.

“Lilo, you have to finish…!” Too late. Nani sighed again. “...whatever. It looks like Pleakley made pancakes for four families anyway.”

“Hey, Nani, can I ask you something?” David asked after a short silence.

Nani nodded.

“I guess this sounds weird out of context, but are your uncle and your auntie dating…?”

“I… guess?” She frowned. “I mean, they don’t… kiss or share the bed or anything, but they are aliens and… they do act like a couple, don’t they? At first, I thought they were just playing the marriage part for a disguise, but… they act like this all the time, even when no one is really around. And Jumba is being weirdly accommodating.”

“If you want my opinion, they are further in their relationship than us,” David teased.

“Oh, shut up.” Nani threw him a piece of pancake, giggling.

David smiled smugly, returning the favor with another piece, and soon they found themselves immersed in a little food battle full of fond smiles. Eventually they wrestled for the syrup and made a mess, but instead of the usual stress, Nani found herself feeling relieved and free.

Maybe everything was a little too much for both at the moment, but she was truly happy David was willing to wait for her, because in the long run, Nani only wanted to share her life with him.

Maybe it was not conventional, but it was love.


	36. Excellent reports about your contributions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Shows up with Starbucks*
> 
> Dammit, I'm super late! Sorry for keeping you waiting!
> 
> Episodes featured: Angel, Felix

Tinkering with some pieces in his room, Jumba couldn’t help but think about the events that had transpired over the last few days.

Back in the day, Angel had been Jumba’s masterpiece. Capable of turning people evil with her song (which meant artificially blocking the empathy receptors and increasing the levels of aggressive and selfish behavior), she was simply a marvelous feat of science. However, after actually having to deal with her, Jumba had hated 624 like he had never hated any of his experiments before.

It was not her fault, of course. Jumba knew Gantu was using her, and she had redeemed herself at the end. But for a few hours, her song had been affecting the scientist, and there was only one thing on Jumba’s mind: destruction, destruction, destruction. Destroy everything, destroy everyone. Including his experiments, including his home, including his family. For a few hours, Jumba was exactly as he had been before arriving on Earth: not caring about anything, not caring about anyone, just having fun creating biological weapons away in his room. It was so fun, so fun, so fun to destroy, to abuse, to tyrannize, to be evil!

Except it wasn’t.

The moment he was free from the siren song, Jumba felt more guilt than he had ever felt in his entire life. He had been ready to kill Lilo, actually kill her adoptive niece with his own hands. And it wouldn’t have stopped there, either; Jumba would have killed all the others too eventually. Everything he had come to love in his new life, everyone he now cared about… all gone. And Jumba wouldn’t have even cared. He made himself sick, even knowing it had been 624’s song that had prompted such thoughts and not his own mind; this was just too much. Jumba loved his family. He loved his family so much, and now he was realizing it was not worth it to get his freedom back if it meant he could hurt them. Jumba never, ever wanted to hurt them. He was not like that anymore.

Jumba was not evil anymore. And now, for the first time, that didn’t make him feel vulnerable.

In the same room as him, across the comfortable silence they usually shared, Pleakley had been having similar thoughts. His revolved around an entirely different day, though, when Nani had been out for a management conference in Honolulu.

Felix was like a dream come true. He was even more clean and organized than Pleakley was, and the Plorgonarian loved it. It was like being on the Galactic Alliance again! Everything had a place, everything was sanitized and no one had the option to be against it. And suddenly, Pleakley was the right one, the one that was acting correctly. The others were always messy and always outnumbered him, making the green alien feel out of place with his lifestyle, but with Felix around, the whole house had the rules HIS way. It felt good being in order again, appreciated for his tidiness again, in control of his life again. It was like being back at his beloved desk, and now that he didn’t have to worry about the others making a mess, Pleakley could study Earth all day. It was simply marvelous.

Except it wasn’t.

It turns out there’s such a thing as being too clean, and Felix was definitely too clean. He was taking away personal belongings, science projects, and antiques, as he just registered them as dirt. It took for the experiment to take Pleakley’s beloved retro sewing machine for the Plorgoranian to realize that maybe he was no longer the person he had been on the Alliance. Maybe he had grown to appreciate things by story and sentimental value instead of a cold number on a paper. Maybe it wasn’t as important that not everything was perfectly organized, as long as it felt like home. And that house felt like home, with its cozy old furniture and the walls full of memories. And the people living there with Pleakley, they were his messy family, and maybe that was not that bad. Maybe they were just perfect that way.

Maybe a little chaos was good for Pleakley, and that’s why he loved his _ohana_ so much.

His phone buzzed on the table and made both Jumba and Pleakley return to the real world. Apparently, the Galactic Council wanted to meet them on the communication system of the ship. Oh, no, no, no, no, no! What could it be this time? The Council only ever called to give them bad news! This couldn’t be good in any measurable way.

Pleakley absolutely hysterical, evaluating all the things that could go wrong out loud, while Jumba just walked next to him in silence. The scientist was curious; even if it were bad news, that could be fun!

“Good afternoon, Wendy Pleakley and Jumba Jookiba.” The dignified image of the Grand Councilwoman greeted them with a nod.

“Is Hämsterviel out again?” Jumba asked directly, not even bothering to greet her back. He received a stern hit on the shoulder from his friend.

“Ahem! What my not-so-polite partner here is trying to say,” Pleakley corrected, putting on his best formal smile. “Is that we’ll be honored to help with any issue the Council may be dealing with right now.”

“I know, Agent Pleakley,” The Councilwoman replied, making the Plorgonarian shake a little. It had been so long since anyone called him that. “In fact, The Council appreciates your continued collaboration in behalf of the protection of the planet. We have been hearing excellent reports about your contributions there.”

“Really?” Pleakley asked, and by his wide eyes, Jumba looked intrigued too.

“We have been contacted by the CEO of the Glorknot Galaxy…”

“Pixley?” the green alien exclaimed, shocked.

“Indeed, Pixley Pleakley. She and the rest of… your family…” The Councilwoman gestured vaguely into the Plorgonarian’s direction. “…begged us to do an evaluation of your current situation.”

“Wait, annoying noodle family wants us not to be exiled?” Jumba asked, understanding the words more quickly than his friend. Pleakley was going to hit him again, but when the information processed in his head, he went pale instead.

“What did they say…?” he muttered, fearing the worst.

“It had been suggested to us to contact Lilo Pelekai, currently responsible for the safety of Earth from the creations of a certain evil genius…” She briefly looked at Jumba, who only smiled proudly in response. “…arguing that her opinion could be, as they said, crucial to evaluate your current line of actions and achievements.”

“So, you asked Lilo about us?” Pleakley gulped.

The Councilwoman nodded. “After a long communication, we have been granted the following declaration.” She cleared her throat and started reading from a paper. “‘Pleakley is my auntie. He’s a boy, but he likes to be called auntie and I think that’s cool.’” Pleakley blushed, Jumba grinning at him mischievously.

The Councilwoman continued. “‘Auntie Pleakley is super responsible. He’s always cleaning and cooking and caring for all of us, and if I forget my lunch at home, he always takes care to bring it to school. He can be a little neat freak sometimes, but I like him. He cooks better than my sister and plans everything and is always there to help, even if he’s scared. Oh, and he sews, like, super good! Let me show you.’”

Pleakley and Jumba glanced at each other, the former unable to hide his wide smile. Lilo loved him, and that was wonderful, because he loved her too.

“...she then proceeded to show me several outfits,” the Councilwoman added, her tone revealing that she felt a little embarrassed about how cute all of that was. “I must say, she is right. Those were indeed splendid outfits.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say…” Pleakley flustered, instinctively reaching for the neckline of a shirt that wasn’t there.

“She also had a strong opinion on Doctor Jookiba,” the Councilwoman continued. Jumba perked up a little, obviously impatient. With a nod, the Councilwoman kept reading the paper; “‘Uncle Jumba is really big and strong. He says he’s an evil genius, but I think he’s just the genius part. He made all the experiments! At first, he scared me a little, but I’m no longer scared. Uncle Jumba always protects me when I’m in danger, and if Stitch can’t save me, Jumba always does. I think he’s also cool.’”

The Councilwoman was surprised to hear Jumba giggling, even more so when she raised her head to find him flustered too. It was clear the compliments had taken the Kweltikwanian off-guard, and there was warmth and love in his eyes. Certainly not what she had expected from the evil genius, but perhaps that was exactly why they should listen to Lilo. Doctor Jookiba was not evil anymore, and Agent Pleakley never had been in the first place.

“Experiment 626 also contributed with the following statements.” She tried to keep her expression neutral. “‘ _Jumbu isa achi-baba, akare asaid ti isa naga. Imhaater hajmha sihkism, isa aggaba kweesta. Akoota naga pitu. Pleakley isa okie-taka, robaapaskit trang nang, isa tookie matyr. Huzziuh morcheeba ih._ ’”

“Ah, 626 makes excellent comments!” Jumba laughed, now bouncing between proud and touched. Pleakley only hoped the comments were good, because he hadn’t understood a word, and Jumba being Jumba, he could be equally happy about positive or negative reviews.

“After evaluating your situation and hearing such good reports on your behavior, not to mention your work capturing and rehabilitating experiments, I wish to personally make an announcement to you,” the Councilwoman raised her head solemnly. “Agent Wendy Pleakley and Doctor Jumba Jookiba: from this moment, the Galactic Council undermines your exiled condition, making you free to abandon the planet at any given moment without supervision. As this is an extreme situation, I hope you understand we will not tolerate any behavior that abuses your new status. You are, as we speak, officially free.”

Jumba squealed and started laughing. Free! That were better news he could have hoped for! He reached for Pleakley and started hugging him in the air, at least until he noticed the small body was completely limp on his arms. Pleakley was so pale and shocked that he was not able to say anything, and Jumba decided he would have to be the one to talk until the Plorgonarian returned to his senses.

“In both here,” the scientist answered in a serious tone that, from him, still came as mocking. “We are very thankful for news. Promise not to be evil again.”

“I’m hoping so, Doctor Jookiba.” the Grand Councilwoman concluded, ending the call.

“Pleakley! You heard that? We are being free!” The Kweltikwanian shook his friend, a little too hard at first, more gently later, until the latter reacted.

“Yes, we… we are,” Pleakley blinked, taking the information in. He smiled widely and took Jumba by the cheeks, almost screaming at his face. “We are! We are free! I can return to my planet! I can be a teacher again! Be with my family! We are free! We are FREE!”

Overtaken by joy, Pleakley kissed Jumba as he laughed. Jumba had been happy too, until Pleakley’s words started echoing in his mind.

Did that mean Pleakley wanted to leave?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Jumbu isa achi-baba, akare asaid ti isa naga. Imhaater hajmha sihkism, isa aggaba kweesta. Akoota naga pitu. Pleakley isa okie-taka, robaapaskit trang nang, isa tookie matyr. Huzziuh morcheeba ih. : "Jumba is my friend, though he used to be scary before. He's a computer genius, but had stopped destroying. He's not evil anymore. Pleakley is nice, he's learning about Earth and helps my cousins. The two of them are indeed wonderful people."


	37. No Matter What Happens Next

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: PRISON SYSTEM TALK
> 
> Episodes featured: Poxy

When people find themselves in a situation they can’t fully process and emotions get too overwhelming, they develop a coping mechanism that allows them to function without breaking down. Some people, like Nani, shove themselves into an eternal spiral of work and responsibilities in order to not let space into their head for any other worry. Other people, like Stitch, carefully keep any thought or problem that can be avoided locked away in the back of their mind. People like Lilo look for the positive side and the greater picture: something big that can make their problems look tiny in comparison. And people like Pleakley embrace denial that there’s even a problem in the first place, usually making them grow stronger in the shadows.

Humor was Jumba’s coping mechanism.

When he was worried, the only thing that came to his mind were terrible puns and jokes. Jumba was the kind of person that made awkward jokes at funerals, all of them of bad taste, but he was never able to stop, even after realizing it was not appropriate. The Kweltikwanian’s big mouth (literally and figuratively) had gotten him in trouble more than once. However, it had been a long time since he had the need to joke that much.

“Jumba Jookiba, take a step forward.”

“Oh, prison guard could at least take evil genius to dinner first.”

“Ah-ah, very funny. Come take your uniform.”

The fish-like official harshly threw a mop in his direction and continued making his rounds with the rest of prisoners. Jumba already knew the routine well; since his exile on Earth, one day of every month, a ship came to collect him to work all day on Prison Asteroid K-37 as part of his Community Service. Most of the time, he had to clean around the building, but sometimes he was not so lucky and had to dig outside to help the neverending expansion of the facilities. The worst job by far, though, was working in the cafeteria, as the convicts were extremely aggressive towards the staff if the food was bad (and the food was always bad). As much as mopping the floor for hours was exhausting, being alone was the best circumstance in a place surrounded by criminals. If anyone in Jumba’s _ohana_ had to deal with that, perhaps they would understand why he hated cleaning so much.

He should have been in a better mood after the Council news, because after they had revised his case and cancelled his exile, that day was officially his last of service. No more floor to mop, no more nasty food to serve, no more dirt to dig, and no more disdain to take from both the guards and the convicts. Instead, Jumba was feeling distressed, and the only thing that came to his mind as he looked at the wet floor was all kinds of bad puns.

The scientist knew he was coping, and he knew why: after almost three years together, after finally taking their relationship beyond friendship, after discovering he had a family and renouncing evil for them… Pleakley was still thinking of leaving. Pleakley still had his planet and his dream on his mind.

And that was good, wasn’t it? No one should have to leave their whole life behind to please others. But Jumba had done exactly that, and knowing Pleakley maybe wasn’t doing the same… it felt like he had been betrayed, even if he knew it was such a stupid idea.

Pleakley was oblivious to his thoughts on the matter, of course. The last thing Jumba wanted was to make him feel guilty. After all, the Kweltikwanian also dreamed of his lab; it would be unfair. Since he learned the lab had been closed (not destroyed or transferred as he initially suspected), Jumba couldn’t shake the desire to go back. It was hard to just forget such a big part of himself, and Pleakley probably felt the same about his career.

“Could be messy. I’ll take big towel” had been literally the only thing Jumba have been able to say two days before, after Pleakley learned Lilo and Stitch (who had been morphed to a microscopic size and sent inside the Plorgonarian’s body in order to retrieve experiment 222, the living disease) were about to morph again.

They would unshrink inside Pleakley, tearing him apart and killing him. The slim alien had begged Jumba to do something, and all the scientist had been able to come with was the towel joke and a laugh. The Kweltikwanian hated the memory deeply.

It had felt terrible. Jumba had been laughing all day, despite knowing it was wrong. At that point, the family was used to being at the edge of some disaster once or twice a week, and even Pleakley had come to live with the idea of dying on a daily basis. But that time had felt so different to Jumba. After all, one of your experiments accidentally hurting a member of your family while acting on his programming was one thing. Another completely different thing was your experiment not only deliberately targeting your best friend, but your own rescue plan blowing up and threatening to kill him in an extremely painful way.

“This is not funny, Jumba! I’m going to die!” Pleakley had shouted, and he obviously was hysterical. “You didn’t tell me this could very well kill me! You really, really, really were going to just let me EXPLODE?” The yells were getting louder, because Jumba was still silent and Pleakley was about to cry. “JUMBA!”

“No!” The scientist didn’t know where to look, his voice agitated. “They will find way, they always do. Had not planned this in such way, it was big dummy’s fault!” A strong desire to crush Gantu’s now tiny body for good appeared in Jumba’s head, but he was far too stressed to do anything. “Not mean to laugh or do bad punny joke. It is just…” he couldn’t help himself, he giggled again. Too much, it was just too much.

“And now you are laughing? I’m going to die, Jumba! And it’s your fault!”

“...I know.”

Pleakley blinked, his expression going soft. Jumba was crushed, looking at the floor, almost sobbing between hysterical giggles. He was not laughing from humor, Pleakley realized now; he was overwhelmed. The green alien took a deep breath and composed himself a little. Jumba was right: Lilo and Stitch had never failed them. Even if he died… well, they still were making their best effort to help. And Jumba was doing his best too, despite the facade he was trying to put up.

It hit Pleakley that the scientist probably had been hiding the worry that this could happen under a smile because he didn’t want to scare him. Even in that extreme situation, Jumba’s priority had been keeping him calm. And Pleakley was yelling at him!

“I’m sorry,” Pleakley babbled, and Jumba looked at him like he didn’t believe his ears.

What? He had made all that mess, this was his fault; why the Hell was Pleakley the one apologizing? However, the Plorgonarian went on, approaching him with a soft smile. “It's fine. Everything will go fine; it always does. You did your best to help me; I’m thankful for that. And if it goes… bad… it’s fine too. I’m happy I’ve been here. I’m happy I met all of you, no matter what happens next.”

Jumba froze looking at Pleakley’s warm expression. His heart seemed to have stopped, and his mind was rushing with possible solutions. No, no, no, he was not losing Pleakley! Jumba was not alone; for the first time in his life, he was not alone, and he was NOT going to lose that. The scientist was determined to fix his mistake; perhaps if he inverted the polarity of the transportation chamber, it could revoke the molecular growing just long enough to…

Too late; it was already happening and there was simply no time. All considered, Pleakley was being incredibly mature about the situation. Jumba was losing his cool quickly, to the point where he fucking asked his partner if he was going to pop. What the Hell was wrong with him? Again with the stupid jokes. The scientist wanted to scream.

He could only be thankful everything had worked out in the end; 626 and the little girl escaped safely, Pleakley was fine and out of danger, and Lilo decided to leave the mischievous experiment with Gantu, which would make him learn his lesson for the day for sure.

Although at that moment, Jumba truly had wished to kill him.

Not even Pleakley (stupidly kind Pleakley) would have forgiven him for that, though. Jumba had to remind himself he was no longer that kind of person. However, the memory was still bothering him two days later, when he was away from the planet and mopping the floor of a huge prison.

He was not used to feeling so… panicked. Pleakley was often, and Jumba guessed that was the reason for why he seemed to be back to normal just an hour after being almost vaporized from the inside. The Kweltikwanian, on the other hand, was still not over it. Not over the possibility of Pleakley leaving, not over the danger he had put his family in, not over his own incompetence when he almost killed his best friend, and definitely not over the fear of being left alone again.

It all sounded so strange to Jumba. Yes, his _ohana_ was nice, his life was quite fun and he definitely loved Pleakley, but… actually, did he ever say that to him? Not really. Not with words. But how could anyone blame him? Pleakley was the one that refused to even think of them as… anything! And why did Jumba even care? Labels were dumb and restrictive, and yet he truly desired one.

He had come to accept (only to himself, of course) that maybe he wasn’t THAT evil, he had come to accept that he was never returning to his lab no matter how much he missed it, and now he was coming to accept he was embarrassingly in love with an effeminate Plorgonarian. At this point, all was left of the scientist’s former self was his membership in E.G.O. (The Evil Genius Organization), which was pompous and not much more than a nice title, but it was all that Jumba had to remind him of his former life at that point. He needed that anchor to stay in place in the spiraling wave of chaos his life was becoming.

Jumba enjoyed chaos when he was the one responsible for it, of course. Chaos, however, is not that fun when it takes the control out of your hands.

When the end of the day came, the Kweltikwanian was sent home with the same disdain he had been taken in with. It was late; most of the town was already sleeping. His bones hurt really badly. Mopping was perhaps not the hardest job, but 12 hours of doing it with only a couple of pitiful breaks in between could take a toll on anyone. Jumba grumbled, entering the living room, not even sure if he would make it to bed. He didn’t even realize the lights were still on.

“Jumba!” Pleakley greeted him with a mug of hot tea (which, to Jumba's preference, was more sugar than tea) and a pair of clean pajamas, carefully folded. “How did it go? I made some tea, and I kept the tub warm and soapy; it’s waiting for you.”

Jumba was too tired to process an answer, but Pleakley didn’t care much and kept talking; “Here; you can change into these when you’re ready. I guessed your back would be hurting pretty bad after today, so I changed the sheets of the bottom bunk and you can use my bed tonight. Do you need anything else? A snack, maybe, more pillows, a back rub?”

“No…” Jumba groaned, and he scolded himself for being so cold. “Am meaning, this is already perfect. Thanks.”

“Least I could do, really!” Pleakley seemed proud to be able to help. He had been greeting Jumba after his Community Services for about two years now, but in recent months, he had become incredibly dedicated. It made Jumba’s chest ache for some reason. “This was your last day, finally. I’m really happy you don’t have to go back to that horrible place anymore.”

“So am I…”

“Well, then… if you don’t need anything, I’ll wait in our room,” the green alien said, already used to the routine.

“Pleakley…” Jumba found himself saying, almost a beg.

“Oh?” Pleakley blinked confused. The night always ended there. Always. This was new.

“Could you… uh…” Jumba struggled with his words. “Stay with Jumba for night?”

“Stay with you?” The Plorgonarian was a little taken aback. In his mind, the idea that Jumba was going to bathe crossed his thoughts, but he quickly discarded it. Not IN the bath, you pervert! Near the door, not looking in, like a NORMAL person. He bit his lip as he could feel himself blushing. “Of-of course… I’ll wait next to the door to keep you company and I’ll help you to get comfortable later; is that fine?”

“Thanks.”

There was so much Jumba wanted to say that night. That he was sorry. That he was lost. That he needed Pleakley with him. But he was so tired…

 _Another day_ , he decided, _another day I’ll make sure he knows I care._


	38. Don't Let Me Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: EXPLICIT SEXUAL ENCOUNTER
> 
> Sorry for the hiatus and thank you for your patience. This work should now return to be updated, though it will probably be slower than it used to be before. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this chapter and future ones. Thank you so so much, I love you.
> 
> Episodes featured: Poxy

The kissing sessions had become more frequent and intense as time went by. Sometimes, Pleakley ventured to Jumba’s neck and although he corrected himself quickly, he didn't fail to notice how that made the big alien suppress a heavy breath. Sometimes, Jumba couldn’t help but rub Pleakley’s back, enjoying tremendously the faint moans the other tried to hide between their lips. They both craved more, but Pleakley wasn't ready to accept it and Jumba respected that.

It was a pleasant night. They were in one of the ship’s beds again, the green alien sitting on his partner’s lap as they made out for the third time that day. Pleakley felt bold and was nibbling Jumba’s neck gently, making the Kweltikwanian’s ears flick as he closed his eyes in pleasure, purring. The vibration under his own body was driving Pleakley insane.

The Plorgonarian always hoped more kisses would placate that strange, clinging, hot feeling inside him, but the more he fed it, the more it seemed to grow. The familiar twitch of one of his legs (that always insisted on shaking uncontrollably when he was really aroused) was showing up again, and the purring and soft moans of Jumba weren’t helping either. It was getting unbearable. When another wave of pleasure overpowered him, Pleakley stopped moving altogether and bit his lips, instinctively trying to cross his legs.

“What is matter?” Jumba asked, panting, as Pleakley pressed his face against his partner’s chest.

“Did…did you say you know how to do… more…?” The green alien trembled, making it impossible to hide himself between the folds of the Hawaiian shirt.

“Yes.” Jumba grinned, mischievous. He knew where this was going and was having a hard time restraining himself.

“Could you…?” Pleakley pleaded with a soft, almost inaudible whisper, gripping Jumba’s shirt so hard that his hands were becoming white. The Kweltikwanian didn’t take a moment to react.

“Will be my pleasure.”

With a movement entirely too quick for his complexion, Jumba moved the slim body of his partner against the bed, and Pleakley found himself between the sheets and the gaze of four attentive eyes. The Plorgonarian gulped, anxiety bubbling in his stomach. Was this a good idea? What if he was a disappointment? What if he didn’t know what to do, or how to act, or…?

But then Jumba’s tongue was licking his neck, one big hand trailing softly down the length of his body, and Pleakley forgot entirely about any thoughts he was having. He felt himself whimpering, fascinated all over again by how gentle Jumba was able to be. The touch was getting lower and lower, and when it finally reached the area between his three legs, Pleakley almost went into double cardiac arrest, a high-pitched whimper escaping him.

Jumba thanked his past self for having done research on Plorgonarian anatomy, or otherwise this part could have been rather confusing. The papilla was surprisingly easy to find because it was still closed; it was palpating furiously below the skin. It seemed almost painful. How much had been Pleakley holding back? Jumba decided that was not his place to wonder and started caressing the area around it with a finger instead.

Pleakley exhaled like he was going to scream, but no sound came out of his mouth. Whatever was going on with his body now, he had absolutely no way of processing it. It was like flames licking his insides, like something wanted to explode, like the touches were some kind of miraculous liquid and he was oh so very, very thirsty. He was now drooling, his tongues were twitching in the most adorable way, and his eye was completely glassed and rolled back. Jumba had to make a conscious effort to keep the pace slow.

He rubbed the area gently. Pleakley moaned against his will, not being able to control his body properly. When did the room get so hot? He was burning. When Jumba felt the small legs kicking erratically in the air, he decided to go a little further.

A soft whine of protest escaped Pleakley when the Kweltikwanian stopped touching him, but it didn’t last long: Jumba was soon enough placed between his legs, his face breathing dangerously close to the skin. Pleakley swallowed a sharp breath, not knowing what to feel exactly except the distinct need to be touched. Jumba examined him for a moment; both orifices were there, and the papilla was impossible to miss because it looked about ready to explode.

That could be helped; with a quick, confident movement, Jumba licked the area with his big blue tongue.

The sound that came from Pleakley was… interesting. A high-pitched cry that begged for more. It startled Jumba at first.

“Fine?” he asked to make sure they were on the same page, and Pleakley nodded furiously.

The genius repeated the movement slowly, enjoying the taste of the skin and the soft sounds coming from his lover. The previously closed genital started to open with the presence of humidity, dripping a salty fluid Jumba could only guess was the Plorgonarian version of precum. It palpated so strongly that it seemed to need something to suck.

It was probably expecting water, but Jumba had another thing in mind.

“Please be holding still,” he whispered tenderly, not that poor Pleakley had the strength or the will to do otherwise.

Very slowly, Jumba started caressing the opening again with a finger, letting it get wet with saliva and fluid, testing to see if it would be possible to insert it in the hot skin. He didn’t have to wait much for his answer, as the papilla almost sucked it in. Noticing the receptive reaction, Jumba tested pushing the finger inside.

Pleakley went crazy, arching his back and shaking uncontrollably as he whined loudly, gripping the sheets so tight between his fingers, it was the only thing stopping him from falling from the bed. Jumba thought his face looked adorable, his eye tightly shut and his cheeks flushed and warm. Still, the Kweltikwanian stopped moving completely until the small body had relaxed a little.

“Is this fine?” he asked, not wanting to do anything more unless Pleakley explicitly confirmed he was not hurting him. He had to wait a little to get his answer this time, but Pleakley finally nodded weakly again, panting and whining softly.

So Jumba licked his lips and started pumping carefully, touching the walls inside with a gentle rub. It was soft, wet and hot, the nerve endings palpitating so strong that the experience itself was becoming unexpectedly arousing for the scientist. Wherever Pleakley was, it was not there anymore, his body struggling to even process the waves of pleasure and that new, wonderful feeling. He was mumbling nonsense and jumbled praise, moaning at all and every movement the playful Kweltikanian tried.

Maybe, Jumba considered, he was being a little too blunt and a little too fast, but _blitznak_ , he had waited for so long and Pleakley felt so good…!

After the Plorgonarian started whining so loudly they were fortunate no sound escaped the ship, Jumba wondered if he could make the experience even better. Pleakley was panting heavily, his breath erratic and his whole body vibrating. The scientist had started purring too, although he was too focused on his lover to even notice.

The Pleakley felt something different. Something wet and slimy and hot.

He could barely process it was Jumba’s tongue that he had then buried between his legs before another needy cry left his lips. Of course, the blue organ was far too big to slip inside, but the purple alien seemed determined enough to try to at least press the tip well toward the entrance. Pleakley went rigid, his back arching like a bow, as his head fell back with a silent scream. His eye glazed over completely until he lost all senses and he melted on the bed, suddenly limp , gasping for air.

He was basically in heaven. Everything, everything could go screw itself right now and leave him alone with that amazing, perfect feeling.

And then Jumba twisted his tongue and it was suddenly too much.

Pleakley orgasmed with a long, erratic whimper before going limp. Jumba noticed the flowing liquid reaching his tongue: sticky, warm and salty. It tasted like sea water. He liked that.

There were not many times the genius lost himself to his primary urges, but in all honesty, he couldn’t quite remember exactly what happened next.

Pleakley just looked so hot laying on the messy sheets, gasping for air, his whole body covered in blush and saliva and his own cum dripping from his bottom. Jumba’s dick hurt under his pants, but he still wasn’t sure how he managed to rip them away. He couldn’t control himself, looming over the little body like a shark, only lust glowing in his four eyes. Their skin had barely gotten in contact when Pleakley slowly opened his eye and blinked, looking directly at him.

Jumba froze in place.

What was he doing? He was going to hurt Pleakley! Taking advantage of the situation like that had been precisely the same mistake he had almost made once and had promised to never repeat. He was going too far, and no matter how much he desired it, it was no excuse. This was not right. Pleakley deserved better than that; Jumba would never hurt him intentionally.

His ears flicked at the sound of the Plorgonarian, bringing him back to reality.

“M-more…” the slim alien muttered, nearly out of breath. “More…”

“Sure…?”

“P-please…”

Well, that was clearly an invitation.

Jumba wasn’t entirely sure if his member would fit, but the circumference wasn’t much bigger than one of his fingers, and Pleakley had dealt with that with no problems so far. Still, he was extremely careful when he penetrated the slim body, making sure to scan Pleakley’s face for any sign of pain or discomfort.

Instead, the green alien started moaning again, his elastic feet grabbing Jumba’s hips and pushing towards them, as if the motion wasn’t fast enough. When both ends met in the middle, the Kweltikwanian groaned in pleasure, his head falling back.

Pleakley could feel the organ inside, throbbing, teasing each and each one of his nerve endings, overwhelming him with pleasure. His own genital area was not meant to be used this way, but who cared? It felt nice and pleasant and oh so incredible. His body was weak in Jumba’s arms and he still wanted more.

The Kweltikwanian was purring loudly, pumping slowly, but the pace became faster soon enough. Jumba was convinced he wouldn’t be able to last long, anyway, with all the excitement hitting him at once. Pleakley was almost screaming at every movement, unable to stand still, and Jumba was too focused on every little sensation to even make a single sound.

“Oh, Pleakley…” the scientist gasped, his eyes lost. It was going to be very short, but it felt so good and he was just going to explode. “Pleakley, am going to…to…”

Jumba tried to yank himself back, but the slim alien grabbed him firmly with his legs to keep him in place.

“Don’t let me go…” Pleakley whispered.

It was too late, anyway. Jumba came, sending electricity through his body that manifested in a deep groan from deep inside his chest. Everything was suddenly blurry and circling around him, so the Kweltikwanian just let himself fall onto the bed next to the other alien, still too overcome by the afterglow to react.

Pleakley was also barely conscious, but the last thing Jumba saw before passing out was that he was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Blitznak: Damn it


	39. You Pathetic Crybaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: REFERENCED SEX; DETAILED ANXIETY AND DISSASOCIATION; DETAILED DESTRUCTIVE THOUGHTS
> 
> Episodes featured: Poxy

Pleakley felt warm and comfortable. The sun bathed his skin and the bed felt just so soft and pleasant, like it was embracing Pleakley’s body with a tender hug. Actually, it did feel exactly like a hug. And whatever was over him, it was not blankets. And was his bed breathing… ?

Oh no.

The green alien opened his eye immediately, a wave of anxiety crashing toward him. He was still wearing the same dress from last night, pulled up to his waist, with a torn sleeve and the ribbon he usually tied to the side barely holding together. His legs felt strange, sore and sticky, and the area between them was still hot. Pleakley was curled against the big, chubby figure laying below him.

_Oh no._

Jumba was still sleeping with his belly upwards. Although he was still wearing his Hawaiian shirt, it was unbuttoned and fully opened, revealing the chest and the stomach where Pleakley had been sleeping gently only a few moments before. The scientist was naked from the waist below, and his pants and underwear were ripped on the floor next to the bed. Unusually for him, Jumba was not snoring, but he was sleeping with his mouth open and an exhausted expression on his face. One of his hands was resting over Pleakley’s body, keeping him warm.

OH NO.

Pleakley didn’t need to remember what happened for it to be obvious, but it still flashed before his eye like a vivid dream. They were making out and then… then… a stifled shriek left his lips, his whole body trembling at the memory. What they did could technically be described as sex, right?

He had sex, then? For the first time? With Jumba… ?

Upon encountering a conflict, every living being obeys the basic instinct of resorting to fight, fight, or flee. Pleakley’s instinct was always fleeing, and so he did; carefully putting the huge hand away from him, he left the bed and went to the house, praying not to get caught. His legs were weak and hurt, but Pleakley didn’t care. It was still very early in the morning, so thankfully, he didn't have to confront anyone yet.

The slim alien went to the bathroom and started the day with a shower that, hopefully, would wash the memories away. Albeit he didn’t think he would be able to wash THAT memory away, no matter how hard he tried.

It had been just… amazing. Absolutely amazing. It was definitely not what Pleakley had imagined (Jumba had been creative with the use of his body, after all), but it still was the most pleasurable feeling the Plorgonarian had ever experienced. No wonder people got obsessed over sex! It was fascinating! Although they did complain about it a lot too. Maybe it usually wasn’t that good; maybe Jumba in particular was really skilled at it.

Yes, maybe it was how gentle Jumba was, or how he seemed to know exactly where to press, or how hot his breath became during kissing him, or how precise was with his fingers, or how desperately GOOD it made Pleakley feel when he used his…

The thought made him so flustered that his immediate instinct was to turn the cold water on just to remind himself to keep it together. His brain liked the idea, but his poor body did not, and Pleakley found himself squeaking loudly at the sudden temperature change. Quickly, he battled to turn off the water.

Great, now he had made a mess in the bathroom with the water and the scream had attracted Nani, who was hitting the door.

“Pleakley? Is everything okay in there? I heard a yell.” She sounded concerned.

“Yes, yes, yes!” he reassured, his voice still panicking. “I mean, the water got cold for a second, but everything is fine now! Everything is fine! Completely fine!”

“...Okay.” Nani was not buying that, really, but at this point, she was used to the aliens hiding weird stuff from her. Luckily, this one was Pleakley; whatever mess he made, he would clean before leaving the room. “Well, I need to use the bathroom too, so don’t take too long, please. I can’t be late to work!”

Pleakley heard her footsteps fading away and sighed to himself. He couldn’t let the others know what happened - Lilo and Stitch for obvious reasons, and Nani…well, the point was no one should know Jumba and he had something going on! Because… because… it was not something! It was just a silly game, wasn’t it? Some weird experiment Jumba was doing with him, not an actual relationship or anything. And all his supposed feelings? Pleakley was imagining them! How ridiculous it would be to think it was love when they were so different, and Jumba could never return such feelings anyway.

Which didn’t mean he wanted him to! Because Pleakley was not in love, it was just… well, it was just harmless fun, wasn’t it? Yes, that was all. Some little, irrelevant, stupid, harmless fun. With Jumba.

Handsome, tender, confident, amazing Jumba…

...as friends! Just as friends!

Pleakley found his face in the mirror and stared at his reflection. His brain was desperate to try justifying what had happened, and the dark voice inside his head gave him exactly that.

“Jumba just needed someone to fuck. He missed the sex. Do you think it’s because he likes you? Oh, silly naïve Pleakley, of course not. It’s because you were the easiest target, because he knows he could convince you to do anything.

“Look at you! Your skin is too yellow, your shoulders have no definition, and have you seen your flanch recently? It’s obviously going orange. Your eye is way too big, your legs too sturdy, and you may be tall, but you are also weak and pitiful. Do you think he could like you, you pathetic crybaby?

“What can you do for him? Whine? Cook some nasty food? Clean some clothes? You are lesser than a washing machine; at least those do their job properly. You have no abilities, no talents, no worth. There is nothing you are good at except at ruining everything, and you know it. Don’t look at me like that; you know this. You have always known.

“And, him being much smarter than you, do you think Jumba doesn’t know?

“You are not his partner. You are not his friend. You are nothing more than a toy he is using until someone better comes along. After all, Wendy, you can keep denying yourself the truth as much as you wish, but you love him hopelessly. Hopelessly because, get this in that tiny brain of yours, Jumba doesn’t love you back. He never will. No one ever will.

“Who could love such a waste of space like you?”

Great, now his eye was all red and swollen, like he was not ugly enough. Sobbing, Pleakley forced himself to remember Nani needed the bathroom and there was still water everywhere. THAT he could fix, and it was pleasant to fill his head with literally anything but his feelings right then. So Pleakley dried his face, put on a shirt and started cleaning.

Cleaning, cleaning. Cleaning always helped.

He left the bathroom just as Nani was about to knock on the door again, with a smile plastered over his face that was as fake as his words insisting he was fine. He entered the kitchen and served breakfast to everyone in record time, leaving all the bowls ready on the table, his expression not changing a bit.

Lilo was sleepy, but not even that was enough for her to not notice the strange behavior of her aunt. She tried to ask him what had happened, but the only thing Pleakley repeated over and over in the same eerily happy tone was “I’m fine!” to any question. Even the ones that were not related to his mood at all.

“Something tells me he’s not fine,” the girl commented to Stitch, who was more interested in his breakfast.

The experiment agreed, but hissed at the thought that he was still supposed to keep what he knew about Jumba and Pleakley as a secret, and decided to not intervene. Nani was busy enough preparing herself and didn’t notice anything. Jumba soon joined the breakfast, but by then, Pleakley was long gone.

The green alien had put on one of his (few) masculine disguises and had left the house with the longest list of chores he was able to craft. It was the perfect day to run all the errands that had been getting piled up! They needed a new replacement mixer, someone had to speak with customer service because the dryer was acting strange and was still on warranty, he hadn’t packed anything for Nani or Lilo that morning so obviously now he had to prepare lunch and bring it to them, there was that charity event to clean the beach he always was too busy to join, and who was going to check the new wig collection in the salon otherwise? Speaking of which, he needed to buy some fabric and, since it was nearby, he could also get groceries. And there was always someone in need of help around the stores, he could perhaps look around and offer a friendly hand, and then...

Every time the Plorgonarian ran out of activities to do, a new one crossed his mind and he happily obliged. He couldn’t run from his feelings forever, but Pleakley would rather die trying at that point.

Morning ended, afternoon came and left and, unfortunately, he knew there were no more excuses left when the sun started to set. Once in the house, however, Pleakley decided it was the perfect time to take care of all indoor chores too, and after a change of clothes, he started cleaning with complete dedication to the new tasks.

See? He absolutely needed to mop the kitchen a second time. Now that was better! And who could be against freshly ironed clothes that he absolutely did not wrinkle himself first? And the garden, of course, needed a good check on dead leaves! Pleakley was sprinting through the hall when a deep voice hit him like icy water.

“Little one,” he heard, and both his hearts stopped.

Pleakley’s own voice echoed inside his mind like poison:

“What are you going to do now, Wendy? What are you going to do now that Jumba is here to tell you last night was a mistake? That he doesn’t want you. Or even worse, that he does, but only for sex. And you would not be able to resist that, would you? You know how much you liked it, how much you desire it. You’re a pervert, Wendy, a dirty pervert.

“Albeit it’s fine; it’s the only thing Jumba needs from you anyway.”


	40. I'm fine!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIFIC WARNINGS: REFERENCED SEX; DETAILED ANXIETY AND DISSASOCIATION; STRENGHT ABUSE; INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA
> 
> Episodes featured: Poxy

Jumba woke up on the ship alone, his mind rushing with all kinds of feelings for a few moments until his eyes adjusted to the light in the room. Soon, a silly smile was on his lips.

They had really done it. They’d had sex!

And Jumba had had a lot of sex in the past, far wilder and more active than the previous night, but this time around, it really felt different. It had been almost overwhelming, not only in how pleasurable it was but in how intimate it felt. That had been, hands down, the best sex of Jumba’s life, and they hadn’t even done that much. It was not what they’d done, though, but what it meant, and… the feeling was just wonderful. _Blitznak_ , maybe the line between love and sex really wasn’t as rigid as Jumba had liked to think before.

And Pleakley had been so adorable! His shy smile was the only image the Kweltikwanian wanted to relive, intoxicated by the memory. He knew this was the first time his small partner had done something of that sort, and it filled his heart with something new. Pleakley had trusted Jumba enough to let him take control until his little warm body couldn’t take it any longer and curled placidly over his belly, resting peacefully for the rest of the night. Oh, how much he wanted to keep Pleakley safe forever between his arms now, kiss him and tell him how good he was. But…

Uh. Pleakley wasn’t there anymore. Jumba looked around the room, but the ship was silent, only the sound of birds chirping outside. Of course, responsible, tidy Pleakley had already woken up and was probably in the kitchen cooking and cleaning for the others, despite his, ehem... bottom being pretty sore. Jumba owed him an apology for getting so carried away.

Anyway, a beautiful day awaited him!

A shower and a change of clothes later, the scientist entered the kitchen humming a happy melody. He greeted everyone a good morning, not realizing the surprised expressions of the rest of his family looking at him. It was really early for Jumba; Nani was still eating and that was definitely something he didn’t get to see much. Not to mention his good mood, considering his usual morning routine was trying to keep himself awake and groaning at any interaction.

“Where is Pleakley being?” he asked, happily chewing his breakfast.

“He told us something about returning the mixer…?” Nani pointed at the empty space on the counter. “He left in a hurry, even though I told him we could do it tomorrow.”

“He was acting weird,” Lilo added. “Like if aliens had abducted his brain and he was scared because now he’s the only one who knows there were aliens!” She thought about her analogy, realizing it did not make much sense to her uncles. “Or maybe he was possessed by a poltergeist!”

“Lilo, did you put your art project in your backpack? I can’t really make it to school today if you forget it,” Nani commented.

“My mummy movie project! I almost forgot!” Soon the little girl was running upstairs, followed closely by her sister trying to remind her to be careful with her homework.

Jumba was still thinking on why would Pleakley leave so early when Stitch looked at him.

“ _Pleakley isa asaid jaalba._ ”

“Scared? Scared of what?” Jumba blinked.

“ _Ah-rumba. Meega smish injibay jaalba pitcha booza, yuuga nukasha?_ ”

“I did not do anything to him!” A short pause. “Well, maybe Jumba did…”

“ _Achi-kata chunga bey robaapaskit isa naga accata; akoota chi tay emba-chua boojiboo._ ”

626 was right; they should talk about it. Pleakley tended to… exaggerate, and Jumba also felt the pressure of something inside him burning to come out, although he wasn’t sure exactly what. He thanked his creation and went to check the mixer’s manual to learn at which store Pleakley would be running errands.

Once there, however, he was informed the “slim lady” (Jumba had a hard time getting them to understand his description. Apparently Pleakley was disguised as a male human this time, which was odd) had already left the mall. He followed the trace of his partner around, but every time, it seemed he was always a little too late, like a race where he was always slightly behind the goal. He was starting to feel dumb wandering around, so instead, he decided to just go home and wait. It would be much easier.

Although as hours went by, he found his concern growing exponentially. When 626 had said Pleakley was scared… did he mean he was scared of Jumba?

Finally, he caught the Plorgonarian in the hall, then immersed in some unnecessary meticulous cleaning crusade. At that point, Jumba was feeling both impatient and worried, so he had a hard time for that to not reflect too harshly in his voice.

“Little one,” he tried. There was no answer. “Little one?”

Silence.

Jumba was getting even more nervous. Pleakley was not moving in the slightest, and Jumba was getting a familiar vibe... the night they kissed for the first time, when Pleakley was overwhelmed and he... oh, no that again.

“Pleakley?” He jumped in front of him quickly, realizing too late his movements were a little rough, but he was truly concerned. He took the Plorgonarian by the shoulders and shook him gently. Pleakley’s eye was wide and looked lost, moving frantically to look at something that was not there. _Smitec_ , Jumba was losing him to anxiety again! Jumba didn’t know what to do, and his voice was louder than he intended. Luckily, the rest of the family was out watching a movie with David. “Pleakley! Pleakley, am here. What is wrong? Are you feeling all right?”

The green alien blinked, and at least now his eye seemed able to focus on Jumba. He smiled, but it was odd, like a plastic smile forced upon his lips that did not match his panicked eye. His voice sounded so artificial, his words so scripted and void, that it sent shivers down Jumba’s spine.

“I’m fine!”

“Are you being sure…?” Jumba terrified eyes transformed into a suspicious gaze. He wasn’t sure how Pleakley had escaped his hands, but soon the Plorgonarian was walking toward the back door, repeating the same words.

“I’m fine!”

“You sound...” Jumba shook his head; no proper description came to mind.

He followed Pleakley and tried to take him by the shoulder, but the green alien was being very, very evasive now. He seemed to be fleeing from Jumba, tracing aimlessly to another location every time the scientist caught up with him or tried to talk, repeating the same words in the same tone, over and over.

“I’m fine!”

Jumba was tired, frustrated, worried and angry. He didn’t know how to deal with this, and it was getting worse every minute that passed. What he decided to do could have been read as an emotional outburst, but it was just the opposite; he had calculated his options and decided there was only one way to make his friend react. It was risky, and it wouldn’t necessarily be a good reaction, but it was what needed to be done to make Pleakley break out from his state of denial before it was too late.

Ignoring the voices on his head that were telling him he was overstepping, Jumba planted himself in front of Pleakley and simply took him from the ground and directly into his shoulder. Maybe the Plorgonarian would hate him later, but first things first.

“Jumba! What are you doing? Put me down right now!” the green alien protested. Finally, some reaction. Jumba ignored him as he carried the slim figure to the ship. “I’m serious! You can’t do this! I swear I am not going to talk to you ever again if you don’t stop!”

Jumba didn’t listen to the begs and the kicks he was receiving and tightened his grip. When he reached his old bedroom facility, he closed the metallic door with a code and left Pleakley on the floor. The scientist sat in the bed and crossed his arms.

“Are you INSANE?” the green alien yelled. “What kind of sick joke is this?”

“No joke; going to talk.”

“Sorry, what? I told you! I’m fine!”

“No, you are not!” Jumba growled, and immediately took a deep breath to calm himself. “I know little one is scared, but can’t flee forever from what happened last night.”

Pleakley wanted to answer something, but his mouth refused to. The memory of the night flashed before his eye and he froze, turning around to not have to see his partner’s face.

“Look, Jumba has something to tell you…” the purple alien started. He was nervous, but tried to sound gentler.

Pleakley’s mind filled the space with the words he expected to hear. _What happened was just sex. I don’t like you; don’t get the wrong idea. It’s just nice to have someone to fuck_. He could barely breathe, and the only thing he managed to reply was a trembling whisper: “No…”

“No? No what? I can’t understand what is you going on now!” Jumba’s grammar got worse with frustration, and he was at the edge of losing his cool completely.

“No!” Pleakley simply yelled.

Jumba blinked, realizing Pleakley meant he just did not want to talk about it. But they had to; they both needed it. What other options were there? Ignoring it? Heavens knew neither of them would be capable of that. One leaving, like the last time Jumba had messed up? Everyone got hurt there, and hell no anyways, Jumba was not renouncing Pleakley now just because they had done something they both enjoyed. He was feeling increasingly angry at the conditioning Pleakley had endured during his life that was now ruining what had been a perfectly valid and beautiful moment between them. They deserved this, and Jumba was set on making his little one see it.

“Pleakley, we have to talk about it,” he stated firmly.

The Plorgonarian couldn’t keep his feelings repressed anymore, and when they were forced out, he was overwhelmed by all of them at once.

“And what would I say, huh?” he snapped, first overtaken by anger. “That I dreamed about that moment for months? That it was the best thing I have ever felt in my life? That all I can think about when I see you is to beg to repeat it?”

“You do?” Jumba grinned, pleased. But the good feeling faded quickly when he realized Pleakley was spiraling into anxiety again.

“What we made was... it should not have happened, not like this, I... I liked it, but it’s not right, not right. In Plorgonar…” Pleakley rambled, hyperventilating.

“This is not Plorgonar,” Jumba interrupted, harsher than he intended. But honestly, he was getting really sick of the damn planet and its stupid rules.

“But still, no one would accept it there! Because it’s wrong. I mean, you feel so nice and warm and soft and… you see? I can’t even control my thoughts!” Pleakley was getting more and more anxious, and Jumba was getting more and more frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And they wouldn’t understand at home; maybe they think I’m crazy! Maybe I am! But oh, Pleakley is so dramatic! Pleakley is so excessive! It’s not like I just had sex with my best friend and all I want is to repeat it, but I just know…”

“I love you,” Jumba snapped suddenly, voice soft.

Pleakley froze in place and went pale. He turned very slowly to his partner, his lip trembling and his eye wide open. Had he heard that right…? Jumba was now standing in front of the bed, looking at him with the most serious expression, not even blinking. Pleakley was just able to mutter his next words.

“W-what…?”

“There. You heard me,” the scientist continued, firmly determined. “Pleakley made evil genius attracted to him. Pleakley made evil genius think he was cute. Pleakley made evil genius feel warm inside, and then fuzzy. Because little one is fun. And witty. And makes Jumba appreciate small things. Makes Jumba happy. And if Plorgonar is having any problem with it, they can come say it to Jumba’s face!”

The Plorgonarian was too shocked to say anything. He felt his eye filling with tears, but they were nothing like the ones he had experienced earlier that day; these felt like relief and joy. That was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to him, and it felt surreal, in a kind of ethereal way. A minute of silence went by and Pleakley noticed Jumba’s expression was shifting, tainted by what now looked like doubt. Oh no. He had to say something!

“I love you too!” Pleakley blurted, sounding more convincing than he knew he could. “I mean, not at first, but… I always liked you, I liked getting to know you, and learning more about you, and becoming your friend, and… you are the most intelligent, interesting, confident and charismatic person I have ever met. And I-I-I just love you. I love everything about you.”

All considered, it was a miracle he had managed to say anything without sobbing. It was not as beautiful as Jumba’s words, but he hoped they were enough. They looked at each other for a few seconds before both started to chuckle softly.

They were being ridiculous. But they were also happy.

“So,” Jumba giggled. “About that begging part…”

Pleakley blushed wildly. “I didn’t mean…”

“You did!” the bigger alien teased, reaching for him with a grin. Before the poor Plorgonarian could react, he was being swung around in the air, held by the big arms of his roommate.

“Put me down!” He protested, only making Jumba laugh more. “Jumba, I’m not a toy! Stop it!”

Despite his complaints, Pleakley was giggling too. The scientist spun around a couple more times with his exasperated friend in tow until he let himself fall heavily on the bed, chuckling all the way. Now over Jumba’s body, Pleakley couldn’t help but smile widely.

“You’re evil, you know?” He kissed the genius’ nose.

“Oh, stop it. Will make Jumba blush.”

“Maybe I like when you blush. And maybe…” He bit his lip. “Maybe I would like to learn more ways to make you blush.”

Pleakley felt awkward for a moment until he realized Jumba was also blushing. They both started to laugh freely, amused at how silly they were being. But hey, no one could say they were not the most relieved, happy, silly couple in the galaxy.

The kiss Pleakley laid over Jumba’s lips was the sweetest they could both imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantalog Notes  
> · Blitznak: Damn  
> · Pleakley isa asaid jaalba: Pleakley was scared of something  
> · Ah-rumba. Meega smish injibay jaalba pitcha booza, yuuga nukasha?: I don’t know. I understand that something was done to him, what did you do?  
> · Achi-kata chunga bey robaapaskit isa naga accata; akoota chi tay emba-chua boojiboo: You should first go see if he’s okay; you should tell him he’s your loved one.  
> · Smitec: Damn it


End file.
